


Hitchhiker

by exclamation



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek Needs Therapy, Donovan aftermath, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Possessed Stiles Stilinski, Possession, Road Trip, Stiles needs therapy, Suicidal Thoughts, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4869098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exclamation/pseuds/exclamation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek returns to Beacon Hills to find Stiles possessed by a spirit that can take over his body at will. Anything Derek does to hurt the spirit will only hurt Stiles, so Derek offers himself in exchange. When the spirit realises how much Derek cares, it uses this to manipulate Derek into helping, with the promise of Stiles' freedom as leverage. </p><p>The two end up travelling across country in Stiles' jeep. The journey stirs up issues for both Stiles and Derek, and brings previously hidden emotions to the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be dealing with guilt and trauma. It's set after the events of 5a with the assumption that Theo and the Dread Doctors have been somehow dealt with (details will be vague on this front) and that Scott and the sheriff know the truth about what happened to Donovan. 
> 
> Trigger warning: there will be mentions of suicidal thoughts scattered throughout this story and references to self-harm. 
> 
> It's not all angsty, but basically these boys both need a hug and some serious therapy.

The person standing beside Stiles’ jeep looked like Stiles. He smelled like Stiles. He sounded like Stiles. But he didn’t move like Stiles. Stiles was always in motion, constantly twitching and fidgeting like it hurt him if he stood still even for a moment. But now the young man staring at Derek was perfectly motionless. He stood calm and still, the way the nogitsune had. 

The stillness only lasted a few seconds before Stiles was back to moving again, but it had been enough for Derek to see. That was all the proof Derek needed. A few moments of stillness was more significant than the phone call from Scott. Scott had been worried Stiles was hurting and didn’t feel comfortable talking to him, due to some argument that hadn’t made sense when Scott had hinted at it over the phone. Looking at Stiles now, Derek feared that the situation was much worse than Scott imagined. 

“Who are you?” Derek asked. 

“Forgotten me already?” Stiles asked. “I’m hurt.” 

He had the smile right, the teasing tone of it, but there was something in his eyes, a nervousness that he couldn’t conceal. Whoever or whatever this was, standing here in Stiles’ body, he knew he’d been made. He tossed his bags into the back of the jeep in a way that was so casual it wasn’t casual at all. He was trying too hard to seem normal but Derek could hear the too-fast pounding of his heart. 

Derek stepped forward. He grabbed Stiles’ shoulder and shoved him up against the side of the jeep, fear and anger filling him in equal measure. His fingers squeezed into Stiles’ shoulder, holding him in place. He wished he could thrust a hand into Stiles’ chest and rip out whatever it was now wearing his skin. 

“What are you?” Derek snarled. 

“Derek, dude, I thought we were past the whole shoving-me-into-things stage of our relationship,” Stiles said, tugging ineffectually on Derek’s arm. 

“Tell me what you are.” 

He was right in front of Stiles, glaring into his face, and so he saw the flicker of something in Stiles’ eyes, like a spark of silver dancing across his pupils. Then Stiles’ expression changed, his nervous humour vanishing into something cold and hard. 

“You’re hurting him,” not-Stiles said. 

“Who are you?” Derek asked again. 

“What are you going to do if I don’t tell you? Punch me? Rip out my throat with your teeth? Anything you do will only hurt Stiles.” 

Derek’s fingers loosened their grip. He wanted to tear this thing to pieces but he couldn’t. That was still Stiles’ body. Stiles was still in there. Was Stiles able to feel this? The not-Stiles had said Derek was hurting him, but how did he know if that was true? It could be that Stiles would feel any pain Derek dealt this creature, or the thing might be bluffing. Could he take the risk? 

He knew he couldn’t. He’d already let go of Stiles’ shoulder because he couldn’t. Here was an enemy he couldn’t fight. Not-Stiles seemed to read that decision in his face. It thought it had won, but Derek couldn’t just accept this. They’d freed Stiles from the nogitsune, there had to be a way to free him from this too. Stiles couldn’t go through that hell twice. 

“Take me instead,” Derek said. 

“What?” 

“Let Stiles go. Take my body instead. I’m stronger than Stiles, more powerful. Whatever you need a body for, you can have mine and it will be a hell of a lot more use to you than that skinny thing.” Derek gestured dismissively towards Stiles’ body. He hoped the thing would listen. He needed the thing to listen. He didn’t have anything else that would let him fight a creature possessing a human boy, but he could do this. He couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. 

“I won’t even fight you,” Derek continued. “Just do whatever you need to do. Take my body, take me over, and I won’t try and stop you. I-“ 

Not-Stiles held up a hand. 

“Hold that thought a moment,” he said. He tilted his head a little, as though listening to something Derek couldn’t hear. Derek bit down his fury. He was trying to save his friend and this thing wasn’t even paying attention to him. He hated this thing like he’d hated few other things in his life, and he couldn’t even lash out because attacking this thing would only hurt Stiles. 

Not-Stiles focused back on Derek again. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Derek said. This creature, whatever it might be, was willing to slip inside the skin of an innocent teenager. It wasn’t going to care that Stiles was one of the bravest people around, fighting with nothing but hope and a baseball bat in order to save his friends from threats that were far more powerful than he was. This creature couldn’t know how smart Stiles was, the way his eyes sparkled with humour, the way he would protect someone he didn’t even like just because it was the right thing to do, even after declaring he could leave them for dead. This creature couldn’t possibly know why Derek was willing to risk everything. The world needed people like Stiles, more than it needed people like him. 

“Are you in love with him?” not-Stiles asked. 

Derek considered snarling, or denying the truth, but Stiles’ life was at risk here. Maybe the truth would be worth something. 

“Yes,” Derek said. 

There was a long moment when neither of them said anything. Not-Stiles stood there, far too still, looking Derek in the eye. 

“Very well,” not-Stiles said. “I – excuse me.” 

He went quiet again. Derek’s fists were clenched at it side, tense with the need to hit somebody and the knowledge that he couldn’t. 

“Sorry,” not-Stiles said, “Stiles was getting a little loud.” 

“You’re talking to him? He heard me?” Derek felt a sudden rise of panic. All the time he’d known Stiles, he hadn’t dared to show how he felt for fear of how Stiles would react. And now Stiles knew. Stiles was probably disgusted with him right now. 

“He heard everything,” not-Stiles said. “So here’s how it’s going to work. You’re my new bodyguard. You will protect me with your life because if anything happens to me, it happens to Stiles too. You will come with me where I need to go. When we get there, there’s a ritual I need to do and then I’ll set Stiles free and trade him in for another model.” 

“Why not just do the switch now?” 

“I need his spark.” 

Stiles could do magic. He wasn’t exactly Merlin, but Derek knew Stiles had the ability to work mountain ash and possibly other things as well. Deaton had hinted that Stiles had a spark of magic in him. If the thing inside him wanted Stiles for his magical abilities, there was no way to be sure it would give Stiles up later. But what other choice did Derek have? 

“OK,” Derek said. 

“Great. Get in.” 

Not-Stiles went round to the driver’s side of the jeep. Derek climbed in the passenger side, hoping that this ritual wouldn’t take too long. He wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to make someone bleed. 

Not-Stiles started the jeep up and then fought to put it into gear. He started driving, the jeep lurching forward. After a few seconds, he pulled the jeep to a halt again. There was a subtle shift. If Derek hadn’t been watching closely, he might have missed it, but then the fingers on the steering wheel were twitching slightly as Stiles slid the jeep effortlessly into gear and started driving as smoothly as was possible in this car. 

“Stiles?” Derek asked. 

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles said. 

“What?” 

“You can’t just declare you’re in love with me and offer to trade your body for mine without even bothering to check how I feel about any of this. And, seriously, what the hell? Where did that even come from? You’ve barely spoken to me in... well, since the Darach thing. You’ve barely stayed in the same room as me since then and I figured that was because you hate me since before then most of our conversations were more arguments than discussions, and then you take off without a word after nearly dying in Mexico. How does any of that translate to love in your mind?” 

Derek couldn’t be certain this was Stiles now talking to him, but he sounded like Stiles. The same tone of voice, the same way of flailing his hand as he spoke, even though he was driving and Derek would have felt more comfortable if Stiles had kept both hands on the wheel. Everything in his posture and voice was so very much Stiles that Derek decided to believe it, until he had evidence to the contrary. 

“You were better off without me,” Derek said. 

“And you’re the one who gets to decide that? Like you get to decide that you can offer up your body in trade.” 

“I didn’t know how else to save you.” 

“Because you’ve got to save me. Defenceless Stiles is the damsel in distress you’ve got to step in and save with your goddamn martyr complex. Have you forgotten the times I’ve saved you?” Stiles reached across and jabbed Derek in the arm, never taking his eyes off the road. 

“Of course not,” Derek said. 

“Of course not,” Stiles echoed, “but still you had to step in and play the self-sacrificing hero even though I had everything under control.” 

“Everything under control? You’re possessed! By some supernatural, evil... something.” 

“Aisling’s a hell of a lot nicer than you are.” 

Derek was thrown for a minute. “Aisling?” 

Stiles waved a hand towards his head and said, “My hitchhiker.” 

“You’ve named the supernatural creature that’s possessing you ‘Aisling?” 

“Of course not. _I_ didn’t name her anything. It’s just what she’s called.”

“She?” 

“Yes, she. Aisling identifies as female.” There was the briefest of pauses, then Stiles said, “Ow! OK. She _is_ female. Apparently gender identity is extremely important when you don’t have your own body and I need to be more respectful of that.” 

“She can hurt you?” 

“She’s in my head and can root around in my memories. She just pulled up a memory of Scott whacking me over the head for being an idiot. It’s not actual pain but it’s...” He trailed off, waving a hand vaguely. 

“Sounds pretty damn close,” Derek said. He was thinking of his own memories. Of the way the past could surge up and take control and make him feel like he was back there in some of the worst moments of his life. To have something inside his head who could stir up memories like that deliberately; he couldn’t even imagine how terrible it would be. 

He smelled blood. His own blood. His hands had clenched into fists without him even noticing, and now his claws were digging into palms. He forced his claws to retract, those stings of pain already vanishing. 

“You OK?” Stiles asked. 

“You’re asking if _I’m_ OK? You’re the one who’s possessed.” 

“Yeah but you’re the one who looks like you want to punch yourself in the face.” Stiles shrugged. 

“How did this happen again?” 

Stiles shrugged again. His focused on the road in front of him, driving along. The silence wasn’t like Stiles but Derek still had a feeling that Stiles was in control. Assuming he wasn’t being played like a sap. How could he trust anything that Stiles said right now? 

“Apparently the fact that the nogitsune was in my head left an opening, a way for other spirits to sneak in. Don’t worry, Aisling did a ritual to shield me so no one else is going to start possessing me. It’s already crowded enough in here.” He tapped a finger against the side of his head. 

“The creature possessing you did a ritual to block against possession?” 

“She was already inside at that point so it didn’t cost her anything and it means...” 

Stiles stopped talking. His posture shifted faintly. Stiles wasn’t in control anymore. 

“Aisling?” Derek asked. 

“Nice to meet you, Derek. Stiles has a whole lot of interesting memories about you.” 

That was said in a voice that was calm and pleasant, but it could so easily be a threat. Stiles knew so many of Derek’s secrets. If this thing was in his head and had access to all of his memories then she knew them all too. One word, and Derek’s darkest secrets could become public knowledge. She had power of him as much as she had over Stiles. 

“Your admission surprised him, you know,” she said. “He really didn’t think you cared about him. Especially after you abandoned him.” 

Derek’s hands had relaxed a little. They tightened into fists once again. 

“That’s nothing to do with you,” he snarled. 

“Why did you come back, Derek?”

“To help Stiles.” 

She punched him on the arm. There was almost no pain because she only had Stiles’ strength to call on but even so Derek wasn’t sure why wanting to help Stiles warranted a punch. 

“ _Now_ you want to help him?” Aisling asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Where were you when...” 

She broke off. There was a twitch. Stiles adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. 

“Sorry,” he said. “She shouldn’t have said that.” 

“What was she on about, Stiles?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

There was no obvious sign of a lie, but there was unmistakable pain in Stiles’ voice. He reached out and turned on the radio, fiddling with the controls to try and get his jeep to play a station that wasn’t entirely static. Stiles didn’t want to talk. Given how little control Stiles had over anything else right now, it only seemed fair to give him this. Derek didn’t press the issue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: vague allusions to self-harm and possibly suicide (it's very vague)

They’d been driving for about three hours when Derek heard Stiles’ stomach start to grumble. They were heading well away from Beacon Hills. So far, they’d been heading fairly consistently north but Derek had no idea what their destination was. He was vaguely hopeful that they might have arrived when Stiles started to signal to leave the interstate. He wasn’t surprised though that Stiles was aiming for a burger place just off the junction. It seemed this was just going to be a brief stop. The restaurant had a drive thru, but Stiles parked up the jeep and jumped out. 

“I need to stretch my legs,” he commented. The restaurant was one of several clustered around the entrance to interstate. There were some shops as well, including a sprawling Walmart. Stiles nodded towards it. 

“We should probably stop in there after lunch,” he said, “and pick up some food for the journey. And you don’t have any spare clothes or anything.” 

“How long is this trip going to take?” Derek asked. “Where exactly are we heading?” 

Stiles hesitated, then said, “Aisling doesn’t want to tell you. She thinks you might tell someone and it might get back to the wrong people.” 

“Meaning Scott?” 

There was a pause. Stiles turned and walked into the restaurant. Derek followed. 

“Well?” Derek asked. Stiles ignored him. He walked over to a corner booth and sat down. There was something unfocused about his expression, like he wasn’t entirely there. Derek wondered what was going on inside his head right now. After a few minutes, Stiles focused on Derek again. 

“There are people after Aisling,” Stiles said. 

“Maybe I should be joining forces with those people, not hiding from them,” Derek replied. 

“They’re not going to care that I’m in here too. Whatever they want to do to her, they’ll do to me.” 

There was a shift in posture, then Stiles, or more likely Aisling controlling Stiles, said, “There’s a reason I wanted a bodyguard.” 

“How much danger is Stiles in?” 

Before Aisling could answer, a cheery waitress approached their table, “You boys know what you’re interested in?” 

“We still need a bit of time to decide,” Stiles said. “Can you just bring us a couple of cokes while we think?” 

“You got it.” She whirled away again with bright smile. 

“Well?” Derek asked, dropping his volume low. This wasn’t exactly the most private place to discuss this sort of thing. 

“Right now,” said Aisling or Stiles, Derek wasn’t sure who it was in charge right now, “not a whole lot. But if the wrong people learn where we’re heading, they’ll be able to piece it together.” 

“You can’t just do the ritual here?” 

“No it...” There was a shift. Derek thought it was Aisling in the driving seat now. “We need to be in a very precise place.” 

“And you’re not going to tell me where that is?” 

“No. It’s safer for everyone. Including Stiles.” 

She picked up a laminated menu from their table and started looking at it. It was a clear indication of the end of conversation. Derek snatched a menu of his own and gave it a quick glance. He didn’t like not knowing. When he didn’t know things, it usually meant someone was deliberately trying to mislead him or use him. He thought Stiles would have understood that, but it was possible that Aisling could stop Stiles telling him anything, and that just made the whole situation seem worse. Assuming that the times when Stiles spoke were actually Stiles speaking and not Aisling pretending. 

He hated everything about this situation. 

The waitress returned with their drinks. 

“Can I get a bacon cheeseburger,” Stiles said, “with the curly fries?” 

“No problem. And for you?” 

Derek didn’t really care about food right now, but it made sense to keep his strength up, so he said simply, “Same.” 

The waitress took their order and went off to attend another table. 

Stiles, Derek thought it was Stiles now, dug around in a pocket and pulled his phone out. He started tapping away at the screen. 

“Does your dad know what’s going on?” Derek asked. 

Stiles’ fingers tightened around the case of the phone. 

“No,” he said. “I left him a note saying I needed to get out of town for a bit and clear my head. I expect an angry call from him when he gets home from work.” 

“Clear your head?” 

“When you think about what’s happening up here,” he gestured towards his head, “it’s pretty much true.” He grinned, trying to make a joke of it. 

He returned to tapping at his phone. Derek sat and stared at him. He did look like Stiles. It was hard to tell anything was wrong about him. 

“Hey,” Stiles said, “do you want to go to Vegas?” 

“What?” 

“Well, I’ve been looking up places we might stay tonight and we’re driving right by Vegas and, well, why not? It’s not like it will require a detour and it could be fun. My dad’s never let me go to Vegas. He’s worried I might use a fake ID to sneak into the casinos and partake in underage drinking and gambling.” 

“So why do you want to go?” 

Stiles looked at him like he was an idiot, “So I can use a fake ID to sneak into a casino and partake in underage drinking and gambling. Duh.” 

“And this seems like the best time to do it?” 

“This seems like the perfect time to do it. There’s no reason we shouldn’t have fun with this situation and, when this is all over, the possessing spirit defence might give me some leeway with my dad.” 

“Five minutes ago you were talking about needing a bodyguard. And now you want to mess around in Vegas?” 

“Right now, no one has a clue where Aisling is or who she is,” Stiles gestured to his face. “It will only get dangerous when we try to do the ritual. We can make a stop without any risk. Come on, Derek, live a little.” 

“You’re going to do this no matter what I say, aren’t you?” Derek said. 

Stiles grinned and tried to turn it into a joke, saying, “That’s the spirit.” 

His grin didn’t reach his eyes. 

***

After they ate, and Stiles devoured the curly fries will all his usual enthusiasm, they headed over to the store. Stiles went off in hunt of food for the trip, while Derek went to find cheap clothes and spare underwear for however long this journey would take. He watched Stiles walk away and waited until he was out of earshot. At least, out of earshot for a human; there was no telling what Aisling might be able to overhear. He had to do this though. 

Derek pulled out his phone and brought up the sheriff’s number from the memory. The sheriff answered almost at once. 

“Derek? What’s wrong? Where are you?” 

Derek wondered how much he should tell Stiles’ father about the situation. It didn’t seem right to keep this a secret but what could the sheriff do to help? If Aisling kept her promise, Stiles would be free once they reached wherever the hell it was they were going. The sheriff wouldn’t need to worry. 

“I’m a few hours north of Beacon Hills,” Derek said. “I’m with Stiles.” 

“Stiles is at home.” 

“No, he’s not. He said he’d left you a note but I guess you’ve not been home yet today.” 

“A note?” The sheriff’s voice sounded terrified, almost broken. “He hasn’t done anything... stupid has he?” 

“Stupid?” 

“He hasn’t... Has he hurt himself?”

“No,” Derek said quickly. Because having a possessing spirit calling up memories of pain probably wasn’t what the sheriff meant by hurting himself. 

“Stay with him. I’ll come find you,” the sheriff said. 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Derek said. “Stiles said he needed to get out of Beacon Hills for a bit. He said he needed to clear his head.” If the sheriff came charging here to drag Stiles back home, there was no telling what Aisling might do to him. “I think he just wants to let off steam and do something fun. He was talking about stopping in Vegas.” 

“Vegas? My eighteen year old son who’s easily distracted and has no impulse control whatsoever, in Vegas?” 

“If I’m with him, I can stop him doing anything exceptionally stupid,” Derek said. And they both knew that Derek could cover any gambling mishaps Stiles was likely to make. 

“You think I should just let him do this?” 

“I think he’s going to do this whether you let him or not. At least this way, I can keep an eye on things.” 

There was a long pause. 

“OK,” the sheriff said at last. “OK. But keep me informed and... and, Derek, Stiles’ has been through a lot lately. Just... keep an eye on him.” 

“I will.” 

Derek hung up the phone. He slipped it back into his pocket and turned to continue his search for supplies. And there was Stiles, standing right behind him, standing too motionless for Stiles to be in control. 

“Scott, or Stiles’ father?” Aisling asked. 

“Stiles’ father.” 

“Did you tell him about me?” 

“No. He thinks Stiles is going on a road trip.” 

Aisling nodded, “Good. It’s safer if he doesn’t know the truth.” 

“Safer for who?” 

“Everybody.” 

She walked away again, off into the store, but Derek noticed that the cart she was pushing, as well as holding jerky and cereal bars and other things that would last well as supplies, contained a lot of Stiles’ favourite candy and chips. 

***

Vegas was everything Derek had feared it would be. He’d seen it on TV and in movies, so he knew what to expect but nothing could prepare him for the noise and lights. Beeps and synthesised music came from the slot machines. People talked and smoked. The smell of alcohol and tobacco wafted over everything. Everything was too bright, was disorientating in its size or colour. They walked through a few of the big casinos, Stiles staring round at everything, and Derek trailed along behind. Nothing felt right. There was the Roman-style shopping area, with the ceiling overhead painted like the sky and a cycle of lights that ran from dawn through day and then into a starlit night and then back again over even while they were walking through there. It was unnerving. 

They walked from one casino to the next, passing through blazing heat and then back into air-conditioning, which would be a relief if not for the electrical artificiality of it all. Yet Stiles looked excited by everything, like it was all a big joke. He kept turning to Derek to point things out, to include him. Not that Derek needed any help spotting the replica of the Statue of Liberty built out of jellybeans or the Eiffel Tower sprouting up from one of the other casinos. 

“Come on,” Stiles said, “I want to play blackjack.” 

“No.” Derek caught Stiles by the arm, pulling him to an abrupt halt. 

“Oh come on, man, we can’t come to Vegas and not gamble a little.” 

“Not at a table with a five hundred dollar minimum bet.” 

Derek pointed to the sign on the table. Stiles looked at it. 

“Oh,” he said. “OK. Let’s find a cheaper table.” 

After a wander through the casino checking the signs, they found some tables where the minimum bet was only five dollars. These tables seemed more popular than the others, mostly with tourists who like Stiles seemed to think it a crime to come to Las Vegas and not throw money at the casinos. Derek wanted nothing to do with this, but he watched Stiles hand over a twenty to the dealer and get four little chips. 

They were gone in no time. Stiles won his second hand, getting a chip back to replace the one he’d lost in the first hand, but then he lost four in a row and had nothing. It all happened ridiculously fast, with the dealer handing out cards in a flash, taking bets and making the game go as quickly as possible so it felt like Stiles had barely sat down before he was forced to stand again. 

“Well that was anticlimactic,” Stiles said. 

“Because they want you to think it wasn’t really the full experience and put more money down,” Derek told him. Stiles appeared to consider this. 

“We should find a poker game,” he said. 

“You don’t think you’ve lost enough money?” 

“Not for me, for you. You can do your lie detector thing. You’ll do great.” 

“No.” 

“Derek, loosen up.” 

“No.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Fine. If you’re not going to gamble we should at least...” 

He froze. It might have been the glittering lights of the nearby slot machines, or there might have been that flash of silver in his pupils. 

“Stiles is going on time out for a bit,” Aisling said. 

Derek had almost forgotten about her. Seeing Stiles smiling, laughing at the scenery, it had been hard to remember that he wasn’t completely Stiles. Now, seeing Aisling standing so still in Stiles’ body, it all came back along with a rush of guilt that he could have forgotten even for a moment. Derek wanted to throttle her for stalling Stiles’ fun. 

“Why?” 

“He was about to suggest going to a strip club,” she said. “I think it would be more sensible to book a hotel room for the night, get some dinner, and then go to sleep. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow.” 

She walked off, sure and confident in her steps, not pausing to look round as Stiles had done. Derek had no choice but to follow her. 

***

They booked a single room with two beds in a small hotel a couple of blocks away from the main strip because those two blocks made a huge difference in price. Stiles had whined a little about that, back in control of his body at that point, saying that Derek could afford to buy the entire hotel it he chose to. Derek hadn’t listened and had gone for the cheaper room. 

They went back to the strip and found a buffet in one of the big casinos. Stiles dove into the food with all his normal enthusiasm, despite the huge burger he’d eaten at lunch, piling up his plate with a selection of food from a range of cultures. Derek was more cautious, sniffing at the food before adding small quantities to his plate. He spent the rest of the time watching Stiles carefully, trying to tell who was in charge at any given time. It seemed to be mostly Stiles, but sometimes he would get that unfocused look that meant something was happening behind his eyes. Derek wished he could know more about what that meant. 

Partway through the meal, Stiles’ phone rang. He took it out, looked at the screen, and cringed, but then he answered it anyway. 

“Hey, Dad.” 

Derek listened carefully, able to pick up the sheriff’s voice coming through the phone. 

“So, a road trip?” 

“I know I should have talked to you but... I just needed to get out of Beacon Hills for a bit.” 

“Is this because of... because of what happened at the library?” 

Stiles’ free hand was resting on the table. Derek watched it tighten around the table edge, fingers filled with tension. Stiles was staring down at his plate. He was sitting still, but it was like a bowstring about to release, tension in every part of him. 

“And Scott and everything else. I just need some distance for a little bit. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” the sheriff echoed. “I wish you’d talked to me.” 

“I know. I just... I need this.” 

“OK. Just call me. A lot. And postcards. I expect postcards.” 

Stiles looked like he was about to start crying, “Sure.” 

“And stick near Derek. I want to know that you have a friend with you at all times.” 

Stiles gave a little choked off laugh that was almost a sob, “Really not a problem right now.” 

“Be careful. I love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Stiles hung up. He stared at the phone like he was about to start sobbing. 

Then the look passed and Aisling was in control again, perfectly calm. Derek could almost be grateful because it meant they wouldn’t have to explain Stiles breaking down in the middle of the restaurant. Maybe Stiles was grateful too because right now all his emotions were hidden away. There had been enough times in his life when Derek would have loved for someone to have been able to take him over and make him look calm when he was about to fall apart. 

But there was another thing that Derek couldn’t help thinking about. Stiles’ dad had asked if this was about the library. What had happened at the library?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should warn you that this road trip is going to be taking Stiles and Derek through a number of places I've never been. I'll be doing my best with Wikipedia and Google Maps but it's possible I may misrepresent certain places on the journey. I apologise in advance.

Derek was woken by a small noise coming from Stiles’ bed. He turned to look and saw Stiles’ eyes open and staring at the ceiling. He was lying still enough that Derek suspected it was Aisling in control. Aisling looked across at him. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Stiles was having a nightmare.” 

“Unsurprising. After all he’s been through, having someone inside him who can control him at a whim is bound to cause him some nightmares.” 

“Stiles was having nightmares long before I showed up, which you’d know if you hadn’t abandoned him.” 

“I didn’t abandon anyone.” 

Aisling shot Derek a look of distaste, “You left him behind in Beacon Hills to face Dread Doctors and Theo and Do-” She cut off. Stiles stood up, shifting and twitching with anxiety, but unmistakeably Stiles. He walked over to the small bathroom attached to their hotel room. 

“Sorry,” Stiles said. “She shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” 

“What happened in Beacon Hills after I left?” Derek asked. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Stiles ran water in the sink. Derek expected him to splash his face or something, but instead Stiles started washing his hands, scrubbing at him as though there was some stain to remove. Derek wouldn’t need to be a werewolf to tell that Stiles was lying. 

“Your dad asked me if you’d hurt yourself,” Derek said. Derek had wondered if the sheriff had seen Stiles acting strangely because of Aisling and misinterpreted it as Stiles having a psychological issue, but now he wasn’t sure. 

Stiles tried to make light of the question, asking, “You mean like ‘tripped over my own feet’ type hurt myself?” 

“No.” 

Stiles shut off the water. He grabbed a towel and scrubbed at his hands with it. 

“I really don’t want to be having a touchy-feeling talk with you right now, Derek.” 

Stiles shoved the towel over a rail, using too much force and bashing his hand against the wall. He muttered under his breath and then rubbed at his hand, crossing back to the bed. He flopped down onto it. 

Derek could go around him. He could call the sheriff or Scott and ask what had happened. But Stiles had so little control over anything right now. If Derek went around Stiles to get information, then he was just stealing more of Stiles autonomy. Derek let it go, at least for now. There could be no denying though that something seriously bad had happened to Stiles since Derek had left Beacon Hills. 

“If it’s any consolation,” Stiles said, “I think he should tell you.” Not Stiles then, but Aisling. Derek wished it were easier to tell which of them was speaking. “I’ve told him it wasn’t his fault and I’ve seen his memories so you’d think he’d trust my judgement on this.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

A pause then, “He really doesn’t want me to tell you. Sorry.” 

“You’ll take over Stiles’ body but you’ll apologise for keeping his secrets?” 

“It’s not so much taking over, it’s more of a time share.” 

“A time share is something people agree to take part in of their own free will.”

“Clearly you’ve never sat through one of their sales presentations,” Aisling said. 

“Do you think this is funny?” Derek snapped. Once again, he wanted to punch her. Only the knowledge that Stiles was in there too made him hold back. 

“When things are bad, all you can do is try to find something to laugh at.” 

“And you want to laugh at the fact that Stiles has had his body hijacked yet again?” 

She shifted. In the darkness, it was easier to see the silver gleam in the eyes and then it was Stiles who looked across at him from the other bed. 

“Don’t think of her as a hijacker,” Stiles said. “Think of her as a hitchhiker. I’m just giving her a lift.” 

But that analogy didn’t work because hitchhikers didn’t usually take over a person’s body at a whim and control their every word and action. Aisling had proved she could do that with Stiles when she’d put him on time out earlier. But if thinking about this situation in less horrifying terms would help Stiles get through it, Derek decided to let him. He lay back on his bed and tried to get back to sleep. 

***

In the morning, they ate in the hotel’s restaurant and then Stiles bought a postcard and stamp from the little shop in the lobby. He wrote the postcard to his dad while Derek paid the hotel bill. Stiles had made a token protest about Derek paying, but they both knew who had the most money. Now Stiles handed the postcard over to the concierge and they headed out to pick up the jeep, which was being jerkily driven up by the hotel’s valet. 

“Do you want me to drive?” Derek asked. “You didn’t sleep much last night.” 

“You didn’t get much sleep either,” Stiles responded. The valet smirked. Derek glared at him. Stiles took the keys and got into the driver’s seat. Stiles was probably the best suited to drive his ridiculously temperamental jeep anyway and he was the one who knew where they were going. 

Stiles put the radio on as he guided the jeep away from Vegas. Derek took one last look at the strip as they drove away, seeing it strangely empty at this time of the morning. Stiles got them onto the interstate heading north east. 

“You still not telling me where we’re going?” Derek asked. 

“No.” 

Stiles drove in silence for a while. Of course Stiles couldn’t cope with silence for long, even in his current state. 

“Why are you here, Derek?” 

“Because you decided you needed to stop in Vegas.” 

“I meant why did you agree to come with me?” Stiles asked. 

“She didn’t give me much choice.” 

“She gave you all the choice in the world. You chose to come back to Beacon Hills, you chose to make this agreement with Aisling, you chose to offer yourself in my place. Why?” 

Derek looked out the window of the jeep. He’d made the admission once because Stiles’ life was at stake; it was harder to do so now, sitting in the quiet car. Putting it in words made it real, made it solid, made it something that could be taken away. 

“You know why,” Derek said. 

“Because you love me?” 

Derek stared at the desert passing beside them. 

“Yes,” he said in a faint whisper. 

“But what do you mean by that? What way? Do you mean you love me as a friend? As an annoying younger brother?” Stiles asked. 

“No,” Derek whispered. 

“Why did you never tell me?” 

Derek didn’t know how to answer that. There were a million reasons why things could never work between him and Stiles. The difference in their ages, the fact that Stiles’ father was the sheriff, the fact that everyone Derek loved ended up either dead or killing the others that he loved. Not to mention the fact that Stiles could barely stand to be around him. 

Derek stared out at the dry land around them. He wound the window down because this hunk of rust didn’t have air conditioning. Hot air blasted in, only marginally better than keeping the window up. He should have insisted that they take his car. 

“Does your girlfriend know you love me?” Stiles asked. 

“My girlfriend?” 

“Braedon. You know, tough chick, likes her weapons, could probably shoot me in the balls if I tried to do anything with her boyfriend.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Derek said. 

“Oh please. I have eyes, you know, I pay attention to things. I know the two of you were screwing.” 

“Screwing doesn’t mean... she’s not my girlfriend. She was... easy.” 

Stiles turned sideways to look at him for longer than Derek was comfortable with, and not just because he really should have been keeping his eyes on the road. 

“Easy?” Stiles asked. “Make comments like that and I’m not the one who’ll get shot in the balls.” 

“I didn’t mean that. I meant... she was alone, I was alone, so we had fun together without any real strings attached. It was never a relationship. It was just... there.” 

“And now?” 

Derek shrugged, “She’s off being a bounty hunter, still looking for the Desert Wolf.” 

“But you decided to come back and babysit me?” 

“You needed my help more.” 

“I needed your help when people were dying left and right! I needed your help when Scott was being suckered by Theo and wouldn’t listen to me! I needed your help when people were going nuts and killing people and then vomiting up mercury! That’s when I needed you and you abandoned me! But of course you didn’t show up when I actually needed you! You show up now when I have everything under control!”

“This is what you consider under control? You’re being possessed by an evil spirit!” 

“She’s not evil,” Stiles said. “She’s just... desperate.” 

“She has taken control of your body and wants you to participate in some ritual!” 

“Yeah, and I get why she’s doing this. Seriously, don’t you think I’d be fighting her if I didn’t agree to this?” 

“You _agreed_ to have the evil spirit take over your body?” 

“Technically no, but I’m OK about that because once she was in here,” Stiles tapped the side of his head with a finger, “she was able to explain herself which she couldn’t do as an incorporeal entity.” 

“Assuming she’s telling the truth,” Derek said. 

“She is.” 

“And how the hell can you trust that?” 

“Because we’re sharing a brain right now. She can poke around in my memories and I can poke around in hers. Trust me, I know exactly why she’s doing this.” 

Derek considered this. Stiles had had plenty of opportunity to tell people about his situation if he’d wanted to ask for help. So far, Derek had assumed that he hadn’t because Aisling could take him over at a moment’s notice. She’d taken control over the strip club thing so it would presumably be an easy matter for her to take control if Stiles started revealing secrets she didn’t want out yet. But Stiles was stubborn. If he’d wanted to tell his friends about what was happening to him, he’d have found a way, even with the spirit sharing his head. So maybe it really was true that Stiles had agreed to this. 

Or maybe this was yet another lie. It was entirely possible that Aisling was playing Derek from start to finish. Every time Stiles spoke and Stiles, it could be her using Stiles’ memories to put on an act. 

***

Conversation was awkward and stilted for a while, but Stiles had never been good with silence. He put the radio on, singing along, moaning at the adverts, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Under normal circumstances, he would have driven Derek crazy within the first five minutes, but right now it was good to see Stiles acting like Stiles. After a while, Stiles suddenly started talking again. 

“You ever been to Salt Lake City?” he asked. 

“No.” 

“Me either. Want to go?” 

“Why?” 

“Well, we’re basically going past. I was thinking we should stop for a bit of a break and some lunch, but if I just keep driving, we can come off the interstate and get there mid-afternoon. We can get some food then and probably find a nicer hotel than if we kept driving. It’s not much of a diversion.” 

Derek shrugged. He didn’t really want to stop, and it wasn’t exactly peak tourism season for Salt Lake City from what he knew about it, but he didn’t really want to argue. He did wonder if this was forming a pattern. They’d stopped off in Vegas, and now they would stop off in Salt Lake City, when they could probably drive for another few hours. It might be nothing, or it might be that Stiles was trying to delay things. Maybe he didn’t want to reach their destination and this was his way of slowly them down. Maybe this was Stiles’ way of asking for help. Either way, Derek would accept it. Until he knew more. 

So Stiles drove on. After a while, he asked Derek to reach back between the seats and fish out some snacks. He sat there with a bag of chips in his hand so that Stiles could reach over and grab some when his hand wasn’t needed on the wheel. 

Derek continued to wonder where they were heading but so far he didn’t have many clues. From the route Stiles had taken, he could rule out about half the country, but that still left a lot of possibilities and Derek didn’t have any way to narrow them down. Not that he was sure what good it would do to know where they were heading. He just couldn’t help but be concerned about the ominous ritual Aisling was planning. And he couldn’t know whether to trust her to leave Stiles’ body when it was all over. 

He couldn’t trust anything.


	4. Chapter 4

_The snow is false advertising. Love Stiles. Ps. Derek says hi._

Stiles scrawled his note on the back of a postcard that showed a beautiful, snowy scene with a couple of skiers coming down the slope. Derek looked on, unimpressed. 

“You could have picked any of the dozen postcards that don’t have snow on them,” he said. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Stiles held the postcard out to the hotel clerk, “Are you able to post this for me?” 

“No problem, sir.” 

“Sir? Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been a sir before.” 

“Because no one would ever mistake you for someone with class,” Derek said. 

“Harsh!” 

The card machine finally finished processing the payment for the room and the hotel clerk handed over the receipt with a smile. Derek thanked her and tucked his wallet away. 

“Come on, you,” Derek said, putting a hand on Stiles’ arm and towing him towards the door. 

“Do you want me to drive?” Derek asked, while the valet went to fetch the jeep. 

“No, I’ve got it.” 

“But you’ve done all the driving so far.” 

“That’s not a problem.” 

“I’m not going to kill your jeep, Stiles.” 

Stiles was uncomfortably tense, “It’s not like that. I just want to be the one driving.” 

It suddenly hit Derek. He’d seen Aisling struggle to drive the jeep when this trip had started. She might have access to Stiles’ memories but she didn’t have access to his skills, and driving the jeep did take a special skill. While Stiles was driving, Aisling couldn’t easily take him over, at least not if they were anywhere that required manoeuvring. Derek stopped trying to argue. When the valet showed up, Derek climbed into the passenger seat and let Stiles drive them away from the hotel and onto the I80. 

Derek wondered how far they were going to travel today, but he didn’t ask. If Stiles was somehow delaying things deliberately by suggesting stop offs, then he wasn’t going to alert Aisling to that. So he just stared out of the window, while Stiles put the radio on like the day before. 

“Is it just me,” Stiles said, “or are these radio stations just playing the same three songs on endless repeat? I sweat I’ve heard this one a hundred times since we started.” 

“I haven’t been paying attention,” Derek admitted. 

“Really?” 

“Not paying attention to what I’m hearing is a natural defence mechanism when I’m around you.” 

“Ouch! Mean,” Stiles complained, but there was laughter in his tone. “Weren’t you supposed to be in love with me?” 

“I think I’m supposed not to be. You’re five years younger than me and the son of a sheriff.” 

There was a long pause, then Stiles asked, “Is that why you never said anything?” 

“One reason. Your dad’s already arrested me once.” 

“You said that’s one reason. The others are?” 

Derek stared out the window of the jeep, “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Obviously it matters or you would have said something,” said Stiles. 

“It doesn’t matter now because when we get to wherever we’re going, Aisling will do her ritual and then I’ll be the one being possessed.” 

“You know...” Stiles started, but his words cut off suddenly. When Derek turned to look, the tapping of Stiles’ fingers against the steering wheel had stilled. Aisling had taken over. Whatever Stiles had been about to say, she hadn’t let him finish. That meant Stiles knew something about the ritual or the deal that Aisling didn’t want Derek to know. Did she intend to back out of the deal she’d made with Derek? 

“He doesn’t like other people driving his jeep,” Derek commented. 

“I’m getting that,” Aisling said. 

“He probably doesn’t like other people driving his body either.” 

“We’re making it work.” 

“By you taking over every time he thinks about doing something you don’t like?” 

“He’s allowed to think about it.” 

There was a shift in posture again, then Stiles, at least Derek thought it was Stiles, spoke: “It works both ways, you know.” 

“What?” 

“She can take me over when I’m doing something she doesn’t like but then I can take control back again. Like when she started telling you my secrets back in Vegas. We agreed not to fight for control because that’s just exhausting for both of us, so now if one of us wants to take over, we can.” 

That didn’t make much sense to Derek. If Stiles could take control back whenever he wanted, why would he ever let her take over? Except he’d talked about fighting for control. Maybe this was his way of conserving his strength. He could let Aisling have her way now when she wasn’t doing anything to hurt anyone because it meant he’d be mentally rested and able to fight her for dominance if he needed to. At least, Derek hoped that this was part of some greater plan for Stiles because it really wasn’t like him to give in without a fight. But of course, Stiles wouldn’t be able to explain any plans with Aisling right there, able to hear every word. 

Derek just hoped he’d be able to recognise the plan when the time came to carry it out because he didn’t see how Stiles was going to get out of this without help. 

Except by Derek giving himself over to Aisling. But the thought occurred that if Stiles could fight for control of his body then so could Derek. Only a few seconds would be needed to put his claws through his own throat. Then he could make sure that Aisling wouldn’t hurt Stiles or anyone else ever again. When Aisling performed the transfer after Stiles had done whatever ritual was needed then Derek would just need to hold her back for a few seconds and he could be sure Stiles would be safe. 

It wasn’t exactly a perfect solution but it would be worth it. Stiles would be worth it. 

***

At some point they crossed into Wyoming. Stiles stopped moaning about the songs on the radio and started singing along again. They drove through dust and desert. Derek rolled the windows down and wished for air con. After a couple of hours, the road crossed over a river and then ran beside it for a short stretch. Derek stared at the line of water and the greenery around it with eyes starved for colour. 

Maybe Stiles had seen him staring, maybe he just wanted a break, but he pulled the jeep off the Interstate at a place called Green River. They found a McDonalds and bought some lunch, walking away from the jeep to go and sit down near the river. Stiles walked down to the edge, taking his shoes off and sitting with his feet dangling in the water. He looked perfectly calm and casual. 

When he’d finished his food, Stiles made no move to get up. Derek didn’t attempt to hurry him. Stiles just pulled out his phone and started tapping at it, frowning slightly. 

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked. 

“Just trying to work out where the hell we’re going to stop tonight because I don’t want to sleep in the jeep.” 

Derek wondered about suggesting staying here for the night. There was bound to be some form of overnight accommodation, small though this place was. But it was barely afternoon. Stiles might be trying to delay things, but stopping now might be too obvious, particularly since they had no reason to halt here. So Derek stayed silent and just watched Stiles fiddle around with his phone. He made no move to hurry their departure. 

After a while, Stiles stood, shaking off his feet and complaining about the water and how he didn’t want to put his shoes on with his feet still wet. 

“Why don’t you use your socks to dry them?” Derek suggested. “I could go back to the jeep and fetch you a dry pair.” 

Stiles agreed, tossing Derek the jeep’s keys. He didn’t even hesitate about that. Derek walked back to the jeep, not hurrying in any way, but not dawdling too obviously. He didn’t know if it was possible to hide things from Aisling while she was inhabiting Stiles’ brain, but there was no sense pushing his luck. He reached the jeep and went into Stiles’ bag, rummaging around until he found the socks. He shoved aside a sweatshirt to get to a pair and noticed that there was something hard and heavy wrapped inside it. Curious, Derek unrolled the garment. 

A gun lay on the folds of fabric, beside a small box of ammunition. Where the hell had Stiles got a gun? There were two obvious answers to that: his father or Chris Argent. Someone like Stiles wouldn’t have had a hard time getting hold of a weapon. The question was, why? Who was Stiles planning on shooting? 

Who was Aisling planning on shooting? That possibility was more likely. For all his often imaginative threats, Stiles wasn’t the sort of person who could kill anyone. 

Derek wrapped the gun back up. Did Aisling know it was there? Probably. But why hadn’t Stiles said anything about it? Maybe Aisling wasn’t letting him. If that was the case, then it would be better if she didn’t know that Derek knew. He hoped. 

Derek rolled the gun and its ammo back up inside the sweatshirt. He tucked it all back into the bag, shifting the clothes so that other things, including a couple of clean pairs of socks, were on top of it. With the mess inside the bag, it wouldn’t be obvious he’d seen it. Hopefully Aisling wouldn’t realise. 

Derek carried the socks back to where Stiles still sat beside the river. He said nothing about what he’d found and if Stiles noticed anything, he didn’t show it. He just took the socks with a quiet thanks and started putting them on. Derek didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing. He had to find a real plan because he needed to get Aisling out of Stiles as soon as possible. Stiles didn’t remember the things the nogitsune had done, but he was aware of everything Aisling was doing. That meant if she killed someone, Stiles would remember it, he’d feel it as if he’d done it. 

Stiles didn’t need any more guilt weighing him down, deserved or not. Feeling the experience of killing someone, even if he had no control over the situation, would destroy someone like Stiles. Derek would do everything in his power to ensure that never happened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel this chapter probably needs a warning for discussions of Kate, Malia and consent issues.

They found a motel somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There was absolutely nothing of interest around except a gas station. There wasn’t anywhere for dinner, so they ate from the supplies they’d picked up on their first day. Derek was starting to crave fruit and vegetables. They’d eaten at diners and drive-thrus without anything fresh in sight. Stiles was making comments along similar lines, saying how his dad would never let him live this down, given how much of a hard time Stiles gave him about his diet. 

Stiles was just disposing of empty wrappers when his phone rang. He reached into a pocket, read the screen, and jabbed it with a finger. The ringing shut off. Stiles tossed the phone down on his bed, lips pressed together in a tense expression that might have been angry or hurt. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” Stiles said. He disappeared into the bathroom. The phone started ringing again. Derek heard the water turn on in the bathroom and wondered if it was in a deliberate effort to drown out the noise. 

Derek leaned over and read Scott’s name on the screen. Why was Stiles ignoring calls from Scott? 

The phone went dark and silent again. 

The third time it rang, Derek reached out and picked the phone up. He tried to work out whether Stiles would be angry at him for answering, or if he’d left the phone out here like this precisely because he expected Derek to answer. In the end, Derek decided answering was the better option, since otherwise Scott might keep ringing all night. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Derek?” Scott’s voice said. 

“Yeah.” 

“Wow. Stiles’ dad said he was with you but I wasn’t sure. He says Stiles has gone on a road trip?” 

“You only found this out now?” Derek asked. It was strange that Scott would only realise after he and Stiles had been gone for three days. 

“Stiles and I... haven’t been talking much. Is he there?” 

“He’s taking a shower.” 

“He’s... Will you tell him I’m sorry? I’d tell him myself if he’d just let me talk to him. Tell him I’m sorry and I should have believed him. About Theo and Donovan and everything. I should have trusted him. Tell him. Please.” 

“I’ll tell him,” Derek said, though he wasn’t entirely sure what message he was giving. Who the hell were Theo and Donovan? Stiles had mentioned Theo’s name, but it had been mid-rant and Derek hadn’t been able to ask about it. 

“I’ll grovel if I have to,” Scott went on. “I just want to make things right.” 

“I’ll tell him.” Derek said again, because he didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t sure if whatever was going on between Scott and Stiles was because of Aisling or some unrelated issue. 

“Is he...” Scott asked, “Is he OK?” 

Derek remembered the way the sheriff had asked the question back when Derek had called him from the store. The sheriff had wanted to know if Stiles had hurt himself. That same note of fear hung in Scott’s voice now. 

“He has nightmares,” Derek said. Both nights, though Derek hadn’t made a big deal of it last night. He been woken up by Stiles waking, but he’d just stayed quiet and still as Stiles washed his hands and returned to bed. There were no screams when Stiles had nightmares, possibly because Aisling took him over as he woke to keep the neighbours from hearing. 

“He...” Scott said. “It wasn’t his fault. I know what I said, about how he should have found another way, but that was because Theo lied to me about what had happened. I didn’t know the details so I shouldn’t have been making judgements. Stiles... he shouldn’t feel guilty. Don’t let him feel guilty.” 

“I can’t exactly control his feelings.” 

“But you can tell him it wasn’t his fault. I don’t blame him. His dad doesn’t blame him. He shouldn’t either.” 

“OK,” Derek said, even though he still had no idea what Scott was on about. All he knew was that something horrible had happened in Beacon Hills since he’d left and Stiles was right in the middle of it. 

“So where are you guys heading?” Scott asked. 

“I have no idea. Stiles just said he needed to clear his head and get away from Beacon Hills for a bit.” 

“Yeah. I can believe that.” There was a long, awkward pause, then Scott said again, “Just tell him I’m sorry.” 

They ended the call after that. Almost as soon as Derek hung up, the flow of the shower cut off. Derek was convinced now that Stiles had left the phone precisely to allow Derek to have that conversation. Stiles emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, still towelling off his hair. 

“What did he want?” Stiles asked. 

“To apologise.” 

Stiles nodded. He seemed to have expected that. 

“Who’s Theo?” Derek asked. 

“Manipulative bastard. Decided he wanted to steal the pack. Didn’t work out so well for him.” 

“Scott said something about only blaming you because Theo lied about what happened and that he’s sorry and should have believed you.” 

“Damn right he should have.” 

“He wants you to call him.” 

Stiles didn’t say anything to that. He started fussing around with his bag, tucking his dirty clothes in a side pocket, inspecting his clean t-shirts. Derek suspected it was purely so he could avoid looking at Derek. 

“Who’s Donovan?” Derek asked. 

Stiles froze. It wasn’t the stillness of Aisling taking over. Stiles’ hands locked into fists around the shirt he was holding. His heart rose to a thudding race. The scent of terror and guilt washed across the room. Stiles just stood like that for almost half a minute, then he lowered the shirt down, moving in an almost-convincing pretence of calm. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles said. Derek couldn’t hear the lie in those words, even though he knew Stiles was lying. Since when had Stiles been able to lie to a werewolf? 

“Clearly it does matter,” Derek said. “You’re having nightmares. You’ve stopped talking to your best friend. Your dad is afraid you’re suicidal.” 

Stiles spun round to face him, fear in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he looked pale and scared and like he might start throwing up. 

Derek continued, “I thought they were misjudging strange behaviour caused by Aisling but they’re not, are they?” 

“I’m not suicidal,” Stiles said. 

“But you’re not OK.” Derek didn’t even make it a question. 

Stiles was rubbing his hands together in a nervous gesture that he probably wasn’t even conscious of. Derek might have passed it off as Stiles’ usual fidgeting except for the way that Stiles had washed his hands both times when he’d woken up from his nightmares. Derek found himself staring at those hands, at the long fingers rubbing nervously, compulsively over each other. Memories of studying Macbeth at school, and the dreams of LadyMacbeth, came back to him. 

He remembered his own thoughts earlier that day, about how killing someone, even when it wasn’t his fault, would destroy Stiles. 

“Stiles,” Derek said gently, “did you kill someone?” 

This time, the stillness brought a slight relaxation of posture as Aisling took control. 

“I keep telling him he shouldn’t feel guilty,” she said. “I’ve seen his memories; what happened was an accident. He was just trying to get away from a guy who was trying to kill him. The fact that he’d also threatened to kill Stiles’ dad is almost beside the point. It was self-defence and the guy brought it on himself.” 

Derek didn’t know what to say to that. He knew a lot about guilt but that didn’t make him an expert in how to get rid of those feelings. He still woke up from nightmares of his own in which his family came to accuse him for their murders. Anything he tried to say to Stiles would feel hypocritical. 

So he just walked across the small bedroom and pulled Stiles into a hug. Aisling was the one who hugged him back but then Stiles’ body shifted a little in Derek’s hold and his arms dropped. He tried to shove Derek away. 

“Get off me,” Stiles muttered, without any real conviction. 

“You’re a good person, Stiles,” Derek said. 

This time, Stiles’ shove had a lot more force to it. Derek could have held on, but Stiles was being pretty clear about not wanting that and Derek wasn’t going to force physical attention on Stiles. He stepped back. 

“You don’t know anything!” Stiles snapped. 

“Because you won’t talk to me.” 

Stiles laughed bitterly, “That’s the angle you’re going for? You? Pot, I’d like you to meet Kettle.” 

“You’re evading.” 

“So what, Derek? So fucking what? You think I owe you an explanation? You think I have to tell you anything? You think I have to tell you what’s been going on since you went swanning off?” Stiles’ voice rose to a yell. “You disappeared to god knows where and the only reason I knew you were still alive was because your fucking fuck-buddy would answer her texts when you wouldn’t. You just vanished and left us to deal with messed up experiments and people dying on all sides and Theo tearing the pack apart and Scott calling me a murderer and the whole world coming to pieces! You left us, Derek! You left me!” 

The last word changed from a furious yell to a choked off sob. 

Derek wasn't sure what to say or do. A part of him wanted to hug Stiles again, to try and give him some comfort, but he was pretty certain that was the last thing Stiles wanted. 

Derek wondered if he ought to apologise for leaving like he did, but he wasn’t sorry about leaving. He was sorry that Stiles was hurting. He was sorry for all that had happened to him. But leaving Beacon Hills? He couldn’t make himself apologise for that. 

Derek closed his eyes for a moment and braced himself for what he was about to do. It felt like he was opening his chest and leaving his organs exposed for someone to reach in and destroy him from the inside out, but he was going to do this. Because it was Stiles. If anyone was going to understand, it was Stiles. If anyone was going to hold off on judging him, it was Stiles. 

“I had to leave Beacon Hills,” Derek said quietly. “I felt helpless there. I tried to make myself a new home, somewhere I could be safe and...” He shook his head, thinking of all the enemies who’d come into his loft, who’d attacked him in the heart of his territory. He thought of Kate, the demon he’d thought he’d put behind him, looming up out of the grave to attack him on the inside, to make him vulnerable to her again. He couldn’t stay in Beacon Hills, not with Kate still out there somewhere. 

“Too much happened in Beacon Hills,” Derek went on. “Too many memories. Everything was painful. Everything made me feel... alone.” 

Derek probably could have left it at that. He could have stopped and Stiles would have understood, but he was already vulnerable. What more could one extra confession hurt him? He looked Stiles in the eye. 

“There was only one person in Beacon Hills who made me feel like I wasn’t alone, but everyone I get close to ends up betraying me or dead. I couldn’t. I couldn’t live through that again. I couldn’t lose...” 

He trailed off. 

Stiles finished for him, “Me. You couldn’t lose me.” 

Derek nodded. 

There were so many reasons why he could never be with Stiles and that was the biggest. The memory of Paige dead in his arms came back when he thought of holding Stiles. All the rationalisations, like the age difference and Malia and all of that, faded to excuses next to that one, huge reason why he couldn’t get close to Stiles. Because he was cursed. Because everything he loved turned to ashes. 

Stiles stepped up to Derek, closing the distance between them. He pressed his lips against Derek’s. Just for a moment. A ghost of a thing that vanished about as soon as it began. Derek’s heart didn’t have time to speed up, either with fear or desire, and then Stiles moved back again, cold air coming between them. Derek was too dazed to react. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Stiles said. “I just... I needed to do that. Just once.” 

“Just once,” Derek echoed. He ran his tongue over his lips, imagining that he could taste Stiles there. A taste of what could never be. 

“Did you ever watch Buffy?” Stiles asked. The question was so utterly unexpected that Derek wondered if he’d zoned out and missed an entire conversation because he wasn’t sure how they’d got from just-once kisses to old TV shows. Of course, if anyone could get them there, it was Stiles. 

“Um... yeah,” said Derek. “Not religiously or anything, but I watched it sometimes. Mostly to laugh at their idea of werewolves.” 

“Did you watch the last episode?” 

“The one where Sunnydale fell into hell?” 

“Yeah. That one. I was just thinking, we should do that with Beacon Hills. Just blast the whole damn town, blow it to bits, nuke it from orbit. Wipe it from the face of the Earth.” 

“What about your dad?” 

“Oh, we’d get the people out first and then just blast the whole place to smithereens. Maybe that would be an end to all this. And then there’d be nothing left to remind us. No more Kate, no more kanimas, no more Dread Doctors, no more Donovan. Just – boom.” 

Stiles was moving, talking with his hands waving in all directions as he always did. The tension hadn’t vanished entirely, but some semblance of normality was creeping back in. 

“It would certainly be cathartic,” Derek said. He couldn’t help but smile a little, “But we should do it slowly, really destroy the place up close and personal. Take a sledgehammer to every place we’ve been hurt.” 

“Hack that damn tree stump to bits with a chain saw,” Stiles said. 

“Or an axe. Really feel it splitting to pieces when you hit it.” 

Stiles was smiling a little now too, “I could throw a grenade into Harris’ chemistry classroom.” 

“Dance on Kate’s grave, whether she’s in it or not, and smash her gravestone to bits.” 

“Torch the library. Just douse it all in gas and light it on fire.” Stiles suddenly froze, looking at Derek, concern in his eyes, as though this talk of arson might be a step too far, taking them back into bad memory places. 

Derek pretended not to notice, saying, “Get one of those wrecking ball things and knock down the old distillery.” 

They continued on, imagining the destruction of half the town: the bank where Erica had died, the loft where Boyd had been impaled on Derek’s own claws, even Deaton’s clinic, where the mysterious bastard had hidden so many secrets and delivered so many cryptic warnings that were no help to anyone. There was something therapeutic about even imagined destruction. Neither of them were exactly happy, but they were both smiling a little when they ran out of places to list. It took them quite a while; there were a lot of bad memories to imagine erasing. 

When they were done, Stiles sat down on his bed and flopped backwards. 

“I don’t want to go back,” he said. “I know Scott’s there and my dad and everyone but even so... I don’t want to go back there.” 

“What about Malia?” Derek asked. He’d noticed that Stiles hadn’t mentioned her once in all this time. 

Stiles turned his head towards Derek and then shrugged his shoulders against the mattress. It was hardly a ringing endorsement of teenage love. 

“You know what’s really funny about all this,” Stiles said, “I think Theo was trying to seduce her. Part of his whole ‘divide and conquer’ routine like making Scott think I’d killed a guy in cold blood. He tried to make Malia fall for him to drive us apart.” Stiles gave a little laugh. 

“You’re not the jealous type then?” Derek asked. 

“I saw him looking at her with smouldering eyes and I saw her look back, and you know what I felt? I felt relieved. Malia and I, we were just sort of... going through the motions of a relationship. We sort of latched onto each other because dating was a normal, teenage thing and it’s not like anything else about us was normal.” 

There was a shift, then Aisling continued, “Their relationship was not in any way normal.” 

“Well, she is a were-coyote,” Derek said. 

“She broke into his room at night, climbed into bed with him while he was asleep, and cuddled and scratched him all night, even after he told her it was freaking him out and that it was keeping him awake.” 

“What?” Derek snapped. He had a list of issues a mile long on the subject of consent and the thought of someone doing that, especially after being asked to stop, made his feel almost physically sick. He could remember vividly his own hesitation, telling Kate he wasn’t sure about having sex, and the way she’d urged him on, manipulating him by saying that if he really loved her he’d want to, acting all upset to toy with his emotions. The thought of Stiles being pressured into something he wasn’t happy about made Derek want to storm back to Beacon Hills and rip Malia’s throat out. 

“And when Stiles tried to Scott about it, he was all ‘you go, guy’ and grins about it. Practically gave him a high five.” 

Derek let out an involuntary growl. 

Stiles shifted again as he took back control, and said, “She’s making more of a big deal out of this than it really was.” 

“Some things are a big deal,” Derek said. 

“Not really. I mean, any guy would want to...” 

Derek wanted to punch something but this was a rented room, so he settled for picking up his pillow and hurling it across the room. It hit the wall with a soft thump. Stiles jumped a little in surprise, his words quickly cut off. 

Old words echoed in Derek’s ears. 

“‘Any real guy would want to,’” Derek said. “You know who told me that? Kate. When I didn’t want to have sex with her.” 

“You can’t compare Malia to Kate. Malia’s not like Kate.” 

“Maybe not deliberately. Kate was an emotionally manipulative rapist. Malia might not have Kate’s intentions, but it doesn’t mean what she’s doing is right. It means she needs therapy to relearn what being human means.” Derek wanted to have sympathy for Malia. She’d spent years living as a coyote and that had to be hard for her, but it was hard not to see her as a reflection of Kate. 

“It’s not that big a deal,” Stiles said. Then he shifted and Aisling jumped in again, “Just because Scott didn’t think it was a big deal doesn’t mean it wasn’t a big deal. It just means you need better friends.” 

Stiles took control back, “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.” 

Aisling again, “You might want to actually break up with her before declaring it over.” 

“OK. Fine.” 

Stiles sat up and fumbled around for his phone. Derek just watched this whole exchange. It was strange to see them flipping back and forth, but he thought he was getting better and working out the cues that gave away which of them was speaking. Sometimes it was obvious from the words, but there were differences in tone, in the way they held themselves. It was getting easier for Derek to spot which of them was in control at any given time. It was obviously Stiles in charge now, tapping away at his phone. 

He tossed it down on the mattress when he was done. 

“There,” he declared. “We’re broken up.” 

Derek might have pointed out that breaking up with someone over text was a little harsh, but right now he was having a hard time feeling sympathy for Malia, so he stayed quiet. 

“There,” Stiles said, calmer this time, looking towards Derek, “I don’t have a girlfriend back home. I don’t have a best friend. All I have to do is persuade my dad to move and I’ll never have to go back to Beacon Hills again. Maybe when Aisling’s finished with her ritual we could just get in the jeep and keep driving. Never look back.” 

Derek didn’t point out that that was impossible. Maybe Stiles would be free to travel on forever, but Derek would be the one left with Aisling inhabiting his skull and he didn’t intend to let that last for long. He already had plans to take the gun from Stiles’ bag to deal with that. Not that he planned on telling either of them that. For now, he just nodded and smiled, and let Stiles imagine a future where they could drive off into the sunset together. It was a nice fantasy.


	6. Chapter 6

It was Derek who woke with nightmares that night. His sleep was filled with the image of Kate in the bed with him, her hands all over him, her voice whispering in his ear. 

He woke to a hand pressing tightly against his mouth. He tried to make a grab for the person standing over him, but his limbs were tangling in his bedclothes from all the thrashing. That delayed him long enough to realise it was Stiles standing over him, the hand muffling his shouts so that he didn’t wake the people in the next room. Derek got an arm free and reached up to take hold of Stiles’ wrist, gently moving the hand away. 

“You OK?” Stiles asked. 

“As I ever am,” Derek answered. “Sorry I woke you.” 

“Forget about it. I’ve done my fair share of waking people up by screaming at night.” 

Stiles crossed back to his own bed and climbed under the covers. Derek took the time to untangle himself from the sheets that had become wrapped around his limbs. He must have been writhing around quite a lot before he’d woken up. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stiles asked. 

“Do you?” Derek asked. Derek didn’t want to talk about his nightmares; he’d made himself vulnerable enough over the past few days. 

“I keep seeing Donovan’s death,” Stiles said. “And I hear Scott and my dad and everyone calling me a murderer, kicking me out.” 

In the face of that confession, Derek’s resolve to keep silent melted away. 

“I’ve had those dreams,” he said, “about my family. Back when I lived with Laura, I had nightmares that she’d find out what I’d done and get rid of me.” 

“It sucks,” Stiles said. “I wish there was a way to magically keep from dreaming. I actually did some research on the subject. There are things like dreamcatchers, but the ones you can get in spiritual shops are appropriated bullshit that bear little resemblance to the real thing and I don’t know if there’s any truth to the effectiveness of the originals.” 

“Maybe you could ask Deaton,” Derek said. 

“Yeah. And get some cryptic comment that in no way resembles an actual answer.” 

If there was some magical way to avoid bad dreams, Derek would love to know about it. The years since the fire had been filled with them. He could almost hear Kate’s voice, hear her patronising, “Sweetie,” as she laughed and plotted the murder of everyone he loved. 

“Does your magical hitchhiker not know anything about this?” 

“Not an area I’ve ever needed to study,” Aisling said in Stiles’ voice. “The worst nightmares I ever had involved exams I hadn’t studied for or turning up at school naked.” 

There was a hint of a joke in her tone, but what she said didn’t register as a lie. That didn’t really mean much, given that she could probably easily deceive him, but it still seemed a strange comment. Derek wouldn’t have imagined an evil, parasite spirit would have nightmares about going to school. 

Derek lay there in darkness, staring at the ceiling and wondering what this new bit of information might mean. 

***

There were no postcards at this motel, so Stiles sent his dad a text to let him know they were still alive. He still hadn’t called Scott back. They got back into the jeep after a breakfast of jerky and cereal bars and then started driving north east. Stiles made comments about definitely needing to stop for a proper lunch if they passed somewhere selling real food. 

Stiles wasn’t interacting with the radio anymore. No singing, no drumming along on the steering wheel. He still fidgeted, but it was in a tense, nervous way. Derek wondered if they were closing in on their destination. He wondered if he should have taken the opportunity to get the gun out of Stiles’ bag. Next time he was alone with their stuff, he would do just that. 

Derek didn’t know what to say, so he just watched the changing scenery as they drove on, the world considerably greener than it had been for much of yesterday. 

“I should have planned ahead,” Stiles said after a long silence. “We could be doing something productive with this time. I could have got one of those ‘learn a foreign language while you drive’ programs or something.” 

“I could talk to you in Spanish,” Derek said. 

“How did you get fluent in Spanish anyway?” 

“We live in California. And my mom thought it was important that we knew how to communicate with people. Language is one of the things that separates us from the animals.” He remembered the way she talked about what they were, about what it meant. When she warned them about hunters, she explained the way that hunters thought but she also explained why that wasn’t true. They weren’t animals. The fact that Derek could speak two languages was only part of the proof. 

They didn’t branch out into Spanish conversations. For all his comments, Derek didn’t think that Stiles actually wanted to turn this drive into productive study time. 

“We could play eye-spy,” Stiles said. 

“I could punch you in the throat,” Derek countered. 

“Well that’s a hell of a reaction.” 

“Car trips with my younger sister.” Derek gave a dramatic shudder. It had the effect he wanted; Stiles cracked a smile. 

“It could be worse,” Stiles said. “I could start singing ninety-nine bottles.” 

“Do that and I won’t just punch you in the throat, I’ll reach down inside you and yank out your vocal chords.” 

“I can’t believe there was a time when I found your threats, well, threatening.” 

“I can’t believe that me threatening you helps you relax.” 

“It’s the one stable thing in this madness I call my life.” 

Derek probably should feel flattered by that because it meant that _he_ was a stable factor in Stiles’ life. Stiles could have said his father or Scott and Derek would have been more inclined to believe it, but the fact that Stiles would even consider saying this was enough to give him a warm glow. It also brought a surge of guilt because Derek had left. He’d had his reasons for doing so, but he’d disappeared and taken that stable factor away from Stiles. 

He wondered if he ought to apologise, but came back to the fact that he didn’t feel sorry about leaving Beacon Hills. 

The silence dragged out as Derek failed to think of a suitable response. Inevitably, it was Stiles who broke first. 

“I trust you, Derek,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Derek said, simple acceptance of the statement. He knew Stiles trusted him, though he wasn’t entirely sure when that trust had started. 

“You snarl and make threats but I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Hell, you’ve thrown yourself between me and danger enough times.” 

“You’ve done the same. You attacked a werewolf with a baseball bat.” 

“One of my stupider moments, right up there with deciding to go look for a dead body in the woods.” 

Derek could hardly deny that Stiles had had his stupid moments, though he might have described them more charitably as reckless, but usually there was something driving them, like fear for his friends and family. 

“You’re an idiot sometimes,” Derek said, “but you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever known.” 

“I’m going to think you’re possessed soon. Who is this soft and caring Derek Hale?” 

“I’ve cared. For a long while. There doesn’t seem any point in keeping it secret anymore.” 

“When did you start caring?” Stiles asked. “I know you hated me at the beginning. I’m curious, when did it change?” 

“The swimming pool.” 

“The... wow. That was a long while to keep things hidden.” 

Derek nodded. It might have actually started before then, from the moment Stiles had given up on playing in a lacrosse game to help him out. He’d wanted that game so much and then he’d just walked away from it. It hadn’t been until the swimming pool, when Stiles had held him afloat far longer than should have been possible, that Derek had realised what he was feeling. And he’d realised he could never tell Stiles about it. 

The silence dragged on for a while until Stiles broke it with, “Erica and Boyd.” 

“What?” 

“Watching you willing to fight for them, seeing what you’d risk to try and rescue them, and then hearing how you’d let yourself get torn to pieces for Boyd and Cora. You were a frigging hero. That’s when it was for me.” 

Derek drew in a long, shaking breath, hardly believing what he was hearing. He let it out again. 

“You... you like me?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Stiles answered. 

“You never said anything.” 

“What was the point? You acted like you hated me. I mean, look at you. Why the hell would you be interested in someone like me?” 

The casual way Stiles dismissed his own worth grated on Derek’s soul. He was sure the years of teasing and insults were behind it, built up into a wall of insecurities a mile high. Insults from Jackson, casual dismissal from Lydia, comments from Scott’s dad, probably all played their part in making it so easy for Stiles to put himself down. Derek wanted to throttle someone. 

Instead, Derek echoed, “Why the hell would you be interested in someone like me?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles asked. “You mean, aside from the fact you have abs I want to lick and...” 

Derek closed his eyes, suppressing a sudden memory, the ghost of a tongue trailing up his skin from his navel. 

“What is it?” Stiles asked. 

“Kate... did that,” Derek said. “She always... she talked about my looks. Like they were the only thing that mattered.” He’d known that Stiles found him attractive. He had a werewolf’s sense of smell and he often got close to Stiles, at least he used to back in the early days. He’d caught a whiff of arousal from time to time but tried not to think about it, because looks were nothing. He could walk down the street and feel the way strangers’ eyes roved over him. He didn’t want that. Not from Stiles. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said. 

Derek knew what he was. He knew how damaged he was. How damaged Kate had left him. He hated feeling so fragile, especially in front of Stiles, but he knew that at least Stiles wouldn’t laugh at him for this. 

“You’re more than your looks, you know,” Stiles said. 

“Yeah, I’m also my short temper, but anti-social nature, and my tendency to pin you against walls.” 

“Hey, with a little adjustment, the pinning against walls is something I could get behind. Or in front of. Up to you. I’m flexible.” Stiles shot him a wink, but then was suddenly serious again. “But there’s also the fact you fight for the people you care about. You sacrificed your power for Cora, you sacrificed your relationship with Isaac because you thought it would keep him safe, you’ve risked your life time and again for the pack. You care, Derek, deeply, and you never stop fighting, no matter what shit the universe dumps on you.” 

“Not like you do,” Derek said. “You were willing to give up everything to stop the nogitsune. The way you’ve always fought for Scott, even when you were scared, is amazing.” 

“You’re going to give me diabetes you’re so sappy,” Stiles said. But Derek thought he was pleased. Not enough people told Stiles what he was worth. 

It struck Derek as somewhat ridiculous that the only time they could admit what they meant to each other was when there was something like a possessing spirit coming between them. There was no point hoping for a future because it was never going to come. Maybe that made it easier to admit these things. He didn’t have to be afraid of what the future held because he already knew. He had it planned out. The gun would be the quickest way, the surest. That was what he’d use. A bullet through the brain would get rid of Aisling.


	7. Chapter 7

They reached a small town, somewhere in North Dakota. Derek was thoroughly sick of the inside of Stiles’ jeep by this point, but he couldn’t be happy about reaching their destination because it was obvious that Stiles was anxious. Every nervous twitch of his hands betrayed his emotions. He pulled the car into a mall parking lot and Stiles just sat for a minute, gathering himself and obviously trying to conceal his unease. Then he went still. 

“Stiles will draw attention to us if he’s in control,” Aisling said, “and I’ve got some preparations to make. And... there’s something I should do... just in case.” 

She climbed out of the jeep. Derek followed her. She went round to the back and glanced around. There weren’t many people in sight. There was a family at the other end of the row, the parents trying to get a toddler buckled into a back seat while a slightly older child wailed and demanded sweets. A cluster of teenagers a few rows over were talking about some movie. An older couple were putting shopping bags into the trunk of their car a few rows over. No one was paying them the slightest bit of attention. 

“Let me know if anyone’s watching us,” Aisling said. Then she opened up Stiles’ bag and dug around for the sweatshirt. Derek looked around as she positioned Stiles’ body to hide what she was doing from general view. She took the gun out and slowly started loading the bullets into it. She was slightly fumbling in her movements; Derek wasn’t sure if that was from nervousness or lack of experience. 

“This is where things get dangerous,” she said as she finished loading the gun. She gave another glance around. A car drove past towards an empty space. A man was talking on his cell phone as he made his way to his own car. Still no one was paying them any attention. Aisling slipped the gun into the back of Stiles’ pants and pulled a loose shirt on over the t-shirt so that no one would spot the lump the weapon made. No one had noticed. Aisling let out a nervous breath. She wasn’t as fidgety as Stiles, but she was still a long way from calm. 

They headed into the mall. Derek walked close beside her, scanning his eyes around the shoppers. There were a lot of teenagers here, hanging out over the summer, but it wasn’t particularly crowded. It was busy enough though that Derek couldn’t tell if anyone was watching them. So he just stuck by Aisling’s side as she headed into a jewellery store and asked the clerk about silver chain. She said that she made her own jewellery and wanted a long piece of chain that she could cut down for her own necklaces. The clerk said it was an unusual request but she had a word with the manager, who didn’t have a problem with it. Aisling ended up buying a roll of fine, silver chain. Technically, Derek ended up buying it. Derek tried not to calculate how much money he’d spent on this road trip. 

Aisling went into a hardware store and bought some copper wire. She bought some sage from a grocery store. She found a carved wood bowl and some candles from another shop. She found a length of silk cord from a craft shop. Then she found a florist and spent some time carefully selecting single blooms from the flowers on display. Once she’d made her careful selection, she grabbed a pre-made bouquet and went to pay for it all. 

They headed back to the jeep. If anyone noticed the strange purchases, no one said anything. But that didn’t stop Aisling looking nervous. Her hands were shaking when they put the shopping bags in the back of the jeep. Stiles took over again to drive them out of there, manoeuvring the jeep out into traffic and heading towards the outskirts of the town. 

“Is it time for the ritual now?” Derek asked. He had no idea what the ritual might involve. 

“Not quite. Aisling wants to do something first in case the ritual goes horribly wrong.” 

“Is that likely?” 

“I don’t know. Neither of us have done it before. But we’ve researched it carefully.” 

Stiles was generally good at research, but this reassurance wasn’t particularly reassuring. Magic was dangerous. Stiles had dabbled with mountain ash but he wasn’t exactly a skilled magician. Derek had assumed that Aisling knew what she was doing. He wasn’t sure whether an incompetent spirit was more of a concern than a deceptive one. 

After a few minutes, Stiles turned into another parking lot, this one next to a cemetery. Derek had a sudden increase of misgivings about what this might mean and what ritual Aisling might be planning. He really hoped necromancy wasn’t on the agenda. 

But Aisling left most of the stuff in the jeep. She just took the bouquet and walked out into the cemetery, looking down at the names on the graves. Derek followed, sticking close behind. Aisling was methodical, exploring carefully, looking at each gravestone in turn. It occurred to Derek then that she didn’t know exactly where she was going. She was looking for a particular grave but all she knew was that it was somewhere in this site. 

After several minutes, she came to a stop at a particularly wide grave marker. She stood for a moment, staring at the names, while Derek came up to stand beside her. He looked at the grave. 

_Here lie Siobhan and Daniel Boyle taken from this world on November 14th 2011 aged 38._

Below those lines were more engraved letters. 

_Here also lies Deaglan Boyle died November 14th 2011 aged 12._

The same date. There were no words of comfort or promises of better things in the world to come, no spiritual statements or soothing platitudes. Not even a wish for them to rest in peace. Just the names and dates, listed there separately as though to hide the tragedy of parents and child taken on a single day. Derek wondered what had happened to them. An accident like a car crash? Or something more sinister? 

Aisling bent down and set her bunch of flowers on the grave. 

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Sorry it took me so long to get here.” 

She stood up, staring down at the graves. She looked uncomfortable. 

“This is Stiles,” she said. “You’d like him. And that’s Derek. Don’t let the frown fool you, he’s a big softy. They’re good people. They’re helping me.” 

She stood there with a distant look on her face. Derek hoped it was Stiles she was listening to, not the ghosts of the people in the grave. She looked like she was going to cry. 

Derek looked away, trying to give her this moment. His eyes scanned across the graves and angle statues, the markers of the dead. There were trees around the edge of the graveyard and he saw a shadow beneath one of them. He let his eyes pass over, as though he hadn’t noticed. Then he moved a step closer to Aisling, hoping it looked like he was offering comfort. 

“Someone’s watching us,” he said in a whisper. Unless the watcher had superhuman hearing, they wouldn’t be able to hear, possibly even then. 

Aisling tensed a little, but didn’t move. 

“Did you get a good look?” she asked quietly. 

“No. I didn’t want them to know I’d spotted them.” 

“Good thinking. God, coming here was a really stupid idea. OK, we’re going to leave but act casual. Don’t let on that we know they’re there.” 

Aisling moved a step away from Derek and turned to look at him, offering a smile, acting as though she was pulling herself together. She didn’t rush it. When she started walking towards the exit, it was slow and careful. She paused a couple of times, looking at inscriptions on some of the other graves. She pointed one out to Derek. He barely glanced at the words, just used the opportunity to turn his head and peer out of the corner of his eyes towards the tree. There was definitely someone still there, a man dressed casually in greens and browns, not obvious camouflage but enough to keep him from being obvious as he waited by the trunk of the tree, branches shielding him somewhat from view. Derek couldn’t get a good look without it being obvious, but he saw enough to be certain that the man was watching them. 

“Do you know who he is?” Derek asked, as they walked slowly back towards the jeep. 

“It’s possible he just likes watching people at the cemetery,” Aisling said, but she didn’t sound convinced. 

“But you knew people would be after you. You must have a guess who he is.” 

“One of the coven that killed my family.” 

Derek wasn’t surprised by the part about her family, especially not after that little scene at the grave. He wasn’t particularly surprised by the word coven either. Naturally there was magic involved; Aisling had already talked about rituals so she had experience in that area. Derek just wasn’t sure how he was supposed to defend her against people who had the ability to use magic. Maybe if he had mistletoe or something he could use it, but his experiences of dealing with the Darach had only taught him that he didn’t like fighting people with magic. 

They reached the jeep, still trying to look perfectly casual. Once in the driver’s seat, Stiles took over, but he was still a twitching mass of nerves. 

“What sort of magic do these people have?” Derek asked. The radio was playing so that should prevent anyone eavesdropping. Unless of course they used magic to do so. He hated magic. 

“For anything big, they need rituals,” Stiles said. “Things like that take time to prepare, a quiet space, tools, et cetera, et cetera. Their home base is probably filled with protective spells and pre-made stuff that would completely kick our asses, but they can’t whip up something like that on the fly or lay it in a public place, so we’re probably not going to be facing their big guns.” 

“But their little guns?” Derek asked. 

“Probably some telekinesis, maybe some basic shielding or deflection magic. They might have some potions prepared which could, well, I don’t know, but they could be pretty nasty. If they can do elemental spells, it could be pretty messy.” 

“Elemental spells?” Derek asked. 

“Summoning the elements. Conjuring fire out of thin air. Stuff like that.” 

A sense of terror threatened to well up from some deep place inside Derek. He squashed it down with a surge of fury. 

“And it didn’t occur to either of you to mention this sooner?” Derek said. “We could be up against dangerous magic and we have literally nothing prepared to protect ourselves.” 

“I know,” Stiles said. He held up a hand as though surrendering. “But there aren’t many places you can get magical defences and if we started shopping around for things, word might get back to the coven and then they could prepare for us. She thought it better if we snuck in and out and tried not to get noticed until we’d done the ritual.” 

“But we could have prepared _something_. We don’t even have a first aid kit in the jeep.” 

“That’s probably the least of our problems,” Stiles said, and turned the jeep into the parking lot for a hospital. Stiles parked in the first available stopped and jumped out to grab the bags of purchases. He shoved everything into a single bag, except for the flowers Aisling had so carefully picked out. He gathered those into a bunch and held them like they were a gift being brought to a patient. Then Aisling took over. 

“OK,” she said. “We want the third floor. Let’s try to get in quickly and without talking to anyone. Hopefully the coven won’t have had a chance to get here.” 

She walked towards the hospital entrance and Derek stuck close beside her. She moved quickly, but not racing, just with the confident stride of someone who knew exactly where they were going. Derek tried to put on the same appearance; they didn’t want someone thinking they were lost and asking too many questions. 

Aisling paused minutely in front of a wall of signs, and then headed off purposely towards the elevator. Derek stayed right there, eyes out and scanning the people around them. There were the obviously ill and injured, waiting in the reception area with family and friends. There were members of staff in hospital scrubs. There were other visitors, some with bunches of flowers of their own. Aisling and Derek moved past them. Derek wondered if anyone of them were witches in disguise. He just had to hope that no one wanted to make a scene in so public a place. 

They got into the elevator along with an old man and a young nurse. The nurse was berating the man for wandering around the hospital, telling him that he should stay in bed and rest. The old man grumbled almost unintelligibly, but let the nurse take him out on the second floor, presumably back to his ward. Derek and Aisling went up one floor more. 

Stiles’ face was looking pale and scared now. It was still Aisling in control, but she wasn’t doing much better than Stiles would at pretending calm. Maybe anyone who saw them would think they were worried about a family member in surgery or something. 

They came out of the elevator, passing more staff as Aisling tried to look like she knew exactly where they were going. She glanced at the signs again and led the way to long-term care. They entered a quieter hallway with doors on either side. Derek glanced through into private rooms with patients lying motionless in beds. 

There were charts on the wall next to the doors. Aisling looked at each of them as they walked past, as methodical as she’d been back in the cemetery. She checked on either side of the hallway and then moved down to the next pair of doors. About half-way down the hall, she read one of the charts, drew a shaking-shuddering breath, and then walked into the room. Derek stopped and read the name on the chart, already expecting the name he would see there: _Aisling Boyle_.


	8. Chapter 8

The figure on the bed was a red-headed young woman, probably somewhere between Stiles and Derek in age. She was thin and pale, muscles wasted until her limbs were scrawny twigs. Her eyes were closed and she lay hooked up to machines. Her only movement was the rise and fall of her chest as a machine pumped air into her lungs. 

Aisling stood in Stiles’ body at the end of the bed, looking down on herself. 

“I look like hell,” she muttered. Then she shook herself into action. 

“Help me move the bed away from the wall a bit,” she said to Derek. “I’ll need to make the circle around my... around me.” 

Derek took hold of the end of the bed and lifted, dragging it away from the wall a few inches, but not enough to disturb the wires and tubes stretching from the body on the bed to all the machines. 

“Are they going to cause a problem?” he asked, gesturing to the wires. 

“God, I hope not,” Aisling said. She didn’t sound particularly confident. She put the bag of supplies down on the bed and started getting items out. Derek had about a hundred questions he wanted to ask her, but this wasn’t the time. He just watched as she pulled out the roll of silver chain and started laying it out around the bed. It wouldn’t form a circle, but Derek had seen Stiles working mountain ash and knew that with that the shape of the barrier was less important than having an unbroken line. Presumably the same principle applied here. 

“When I start the ritual,” Aisling said as she lay down the chain, “I’ll need you to make sure no one disturbs me. Not doctors, and definitely not the coven. If someone interrupts the spell, it could be very dangerous. For both of us.” 

She set down the roll of silver chain, making sure that the end still attached to the roll was overlapping with the start of her circle. She did the same with the copper wire, and then again with the silk cord. Derek knew very little about magic, except the fragments he’d seen watching Deaton and the bits picked up fighting the Darach, but he was willing to bet that a ritual involving three different barriers was bound to be a major piece of work. 

“Shut the door and keep watch,” Aisling said as she finished the third barrier and stepped inside with the rest of her supplies. 

Derek started to obey, but his fears were rising up inside him once again. This was dangerous. Aisling had admitted that it was dangerous and the fact that she wasn’t sure about the wires suggested she wasn’t complete sure about the details of the spell. All of this added up to a huge heap of worry. 

“Put Stiles in control again,” Derek said. 

There was a shift, then Stiles asked, “What is it?” 

Derek stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ lips. Desperation and fear filled the gesture. He clutched at Stiles’ shirt for a moment, as though he could pull them together and make sure they never split apart. 

But he couldn’t. 

After a second or two, he stepped back. 

“Just in case,” Derek said. “I love you.” 

Stiles nodded, looking a little dazed, and then muttered, “I love you too.” 

Derek wasn’t sure if those words were an automatic echo, or if they were real. Either way, they made his heart pound. 

He forced himself to turn his back on Stiles and step out of the room. In the hallway, he closed the door and waited, looking to either side in case of approaching trouble. 

He couldn’t see what was going on behind the door but he could hear things. He heard the click that was probably a lighter. He heard Stiles’ voice muttering words that were in some foreign language he didn’t recognise. He glanced at his watch, then realised that was pointless because he didn’t know how long this ritual was going to take. 

All he could do was stand there and wonder how he’d been so stupid. He’d known that there was a ritual involved and that Stiles had agreed to whatever it was that Aisling was planning. He should have known that Stiles would never have agreed to anything if the end result would be Derek being taken over. He’d talked about Aisling as a hitchhiker, just using him to get to where she needed to go. He’d even talked about him and Derek going somewhere together afterwards. Aisling had never planned to take over Derek’s body. 

Derek wasn’t entirely sure why he felt angry about that. 

He ought to be glad that he wasn’t going to be taken over by a spirit. Not that Aisling was actually a spirit. She was a girl, a human girl, somehow separated from her body and condemned to live as a parasite in someone else’s. Stiles had said he understood what Aisling was doing and why. Derek could understand it too now, or at least bits of it. Aisling had just been trying to get back to herself. 

But she’d lied to Derek about it. She’d tricked him. When Derek had offered himself up, she could have said that she was going to leave Stiles’ body in a few days. Instead she’d lied to him so she could manipulate him into helping. She’d tricked him when she could have asked. And that made him furious. He didn’t like being used. He especially didn’t like being used by deceptive magic workers who would rather lie and trick than simply come forward and ask for assistance. Thoughts of the Darach filled his mind, memories of Jennifer playing him with kind words and magic and shy smiles, worming her way into his life instead of just admitting that Deucalion was too dangerous to deal with alone. 

When Aisling was back in her own body, the first thing Derek was going to do was punch her in the face. 

He wondered how the ritual was going on in there. He could still hear muttered words but he didn’t dare open the door to take a look in case in distracted Aisling and caused the spell to blow up in their faces. He glanced at his watch again. Ten minutes had passed since the ritual had started. He wished he knew whether that meant it was nearly done or just getting started. 

A man walked into the hallway. He was dressed in doctor’s scrubs, a white coat over the top of them, even a stethoscope hanging round his neck. He looked the part, but he didn’t smell the part. Doctors always carried the scent of their work, of blood and people and sickness, overlaid with the strong scent of disinfectant and soap. They carried the hospital smells around them like an aura. This man didn’t. 

Derek stood there casually, acting like he hadn’t noticed anything was wrong, as the fake doctor drew closer. The man offered Derek a smile. 

“I need to check that patient’s vitals,” he said. 

“Surely it can wait a few minutes,” Derek said. “Her cousin’s just come to visit her and wants his privacy.” 

The fake doctor looked at Derek. Derek looked back at him. Understanding hung in the air between them and both realised that the other one knew they were lying. 

Derek could probably attack the guy, but he had no way to know what magic or weapons he might have on him. And the distraction could be disastrous. 

“Let her finish the spell,” Derek said. “Once she’s back in her body, I don’t care what you do with her. If you interrupt now you could kill them both.” Derek tried to exude confidence and strength, as though he wasn’t the slightest bit concerned by this man. He added, “There’s no reason why _we_ should be enemies.” 

The man paused. He stood a cautious distance from Derek, but he didn’t seem to be rushing into violence. That might have been a sign that the man wasn’t blood-thirsty, or he could have just been cautious, not wanting to start something without knowing what Derek was capable of. Derek wondered if the man realised he was a werewolf. 

“You’re not protecting her?” the man asked. 

Derek shrugged, “She possessed my friend and is walking around in his body like she owns it. I’ll protect her as long as hurting her means hurting him. Once she’s back in her own skin...” Derek shrugged again, trying to keep up the casual act. “But if you kill him, I will destroy you utterly and there won’t be a single doctor in this whole hospital who could put you back together again.” 

“You think you’re capable of destroying me?” The question was still cautious. There was nothing taunting; the man genuinely wanted to know how powerful Derek was. Derek decided to play on that. The longer they were out here talking calmly, the more time Aisling had to finish her spell. 

“The last time I fought a druid,” Derek said, “she decided she needed to sacrifice fifteen people, warriors, virgins, and so on, with a three-fold death on convergence-points of telluric currents, just to prepare herself for the fight. She’s dead now.” 

Every word Derek had just said was technically true. This guy didn’t need to know that Jennifer had been more scared about Deucalion and that Derek had just been a pawn in her games. Derek just hoped that the use of terminology about the sacrifices would make his story sound more plausible. It certainly seemed to give the man pause. If the guy needed more reason to hesitate, maybe Derek could tell him that he’d killed berserkers with his bare hands. 

“That boy in there,” the man said, “your friend... he’s a practitioner?” 

Derek was happy to be thought of as a threat, but he didn’t need this man or his friends deciding that Stiles needed to be removed from the equation. 

“In training,” Derek said. “Can’t do much more than create a mountain ash circle and draw on magical currents to give himself some extra strength when he’s pushed to his limits. He’s not going to cause any problems if you want to get to Aisling.” 

Two more people came into the hallway. They lacked the hospital smell of doctors too and they hadn’t even bothered with disguises. Derek wondered if the fake doctor had been here to stall while he waited for back-up. The back-up consisted of a man and a woman, each at least in their thirties, and dressed casually in clothes that wouldn’t hinder them in a fight. Neither of them looked particularly athletic, but that didn’t mean much if they could throw magic around. Jennifer hadn’t looked like a fighter. 

Derek stayed in front of the door as he eyed them up. 

“Your friend,” he said, “was just agreeing to wait until the body-swapping ritual was over before you guys do whatever it is you want to do to Aisling.” 

“And give us three people to fight instead of two?” the woman asked. 

“It will give you one person to fight,” Derek said. “Aisling possessed my friend and used him to get here.” He started giving the same speech he’d given to the fake doctor about how he wasn’t going to stop them doing whatever the hell they liked to Aisling. 

The only thing that stopped him was the realisation that he wasn’t hearing muffled words on the other side of the door. The room beyond was silent. Either the ritual was over, or it had gone wrong and now the two people inside the room were dead. Derek didn’t dare think about that. He just stood there, between the door and these three people, waiting for something to happen. 

“Stand aside,” the woman said. 

“No,” Derek said. He let his eyes shine. He didn’t know if they’d recognise him as a werewolf. If they did, he didn’t know if they’d know what blue eyes meant. At the very least, they’d recognise him as something more than a helpless human. 

One of the men, not the fake doctor, flinched back a little. The woman didn’t even blink. She muttered something under her breath. 

Derek felt like a truck had just slammed into his chest. His whole body lifted off the ground and his back smashed into the door with enough force to tear it from its frame. He struck the wall, hit the floor, and then instantly pushed himself up, ignoring the pain throbbing through his body. He leapt to his feet, already snarling, knowing his body could heal from whatever damage the impact had done. 

Before Derek could charge back at the woman, a gunshot rang out. The sound was deafening, echoing around the little room. Stiles stood there, beside the bed, gun in his hand aimed at the group in the doorway.


	9. Chapter 9

The woman staggered, blood spurting out of a wound in her lower leg. She grabbed at one of the men to stay upright. 

“You shot her!” one of the men said. 

“That was the warning shot,” Stiles said. “Next one goes somewhere more vital. Now back off.” 

The woman, still leaning on her companion, look at Stiles with fury and pain on her face. She raised a hand in his direction. The air in front of Stiles shimmered but he barely blinked. Whatever magic the woman had tried to cast hit the edge of the circles and vanished there, leaving only a strange disturbance of the air, like the shimmer over a road on a hot day. Her magic didn’t cross the circles at all. 

“Well that was effective,” Stiles said, the bite of sarcasm completely Stiles, despite this ruthlessness Derek had never seen in him before. Stiles kept the gun aimed. He didn’t need to point out that the entirely non-magical bullets would have no problem crossing the circles but that their spells would be useless. 

Derek edged along the wall, moving to put the bed between him and the door. He couldn’t cross the circles any more than the trio at the door could, which made Derek a little uncomfortable. He didn’t like having his line of attack broken, but it was the sensible action given that it would interrupt their line of attack too, and they were more likely to be a threat to him than the other way around. 

On the bed, Aisling was sitting up, eyes open and aware. She hadn’t moved much since Derek had been blasted back into the room. Her eyes were on the three witches in the doorway, but she didn’t look like she was in any condition to fight. Derek looked back at Stiles. He thought it was Stiles. He stood more still than usual, but it wasn’t the abnormal stillness of Aisling. It was just the stillness of him being calm in the face of a deadly enemy. That was scary for a whole other reason. 

“You should probably go find a doctor to deal with that leg,” Stiles said. “You know, while you’re still breathing.” 

“You’ll have to leave that circle eventually,” the woman said. But she limped out, leaning heavily against one of her men. She paused just outside the room and looked back, waving her hand in a complex motion. The puddle of blood beneath where she’d been standing burst into flame, the crimson liquid vanishing in vivid, red flames. 

“What the hell?” Derek muttered. 

“Maybe sure we can’t use her blood for sympathetic magic,” Aisling said. Derek had somehow expected her voice to sound like Stiles’, even though there was no reason it should. It didn’t, of course. It sounded like a woman’s voice, but hoarse with lack of use. 

The door to the private room swung shut. The instant it closed, Aisling started pushing herself up in the bed. Stiles started moving, hands twitching with nervous energy. He lowered the gun, bringing his other hand to his face and rubbing his eyes a little as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen himself do. 

“We have to get out of here,” Aisling said. Derek held up a hand, listening. There were limping footsteps on the other side of the door, but not enough. He listened harder, trying to hear beyond the beeping machinery and general buzz of hospital noise. There was still a heartbeat outside the door. Derek hadn’t heard anyone else arrive, so it was a safe bet that one of the men had stayed behind when the other two went to get the bullet wound dealt with. 

“One left,” Derek mouthed, holding up a single finger and then pointing outside the door. They couldn’t leave the room without leaving the magic circle. 

Aisling looked trembling and pale. Derek didn’t think it was just from however long she’d spent with her body lying motionless on the hospital bed. She was scared. And it didn’t look like Stiles planned to walk away and leave her here. 

“The window?” Stiles asked in a whisper quiet enough that only werewolf ears could hear. 

Derek peered out the window. There was quite a long drop down to a small garden area. Derek assessed the wall. There was a ledge below the window and more features of stonework that he could use for handholds. 

“I could make it down,” he said keeping his voice quiet in case the man outside was listening, “but I doubt you could.” 

He wouldn’t trust Stiles with a climb like that and Aisling looked like she could barely stand. 

Stiles looked at Aisling, “Is feather fall a real spell?” 

“I could probably improvise something,” she said. She pushed herself over to the edge of the bed and stood. For about half a second. Her legs crumbled under her. Stiles caught her before she face-planted over the edge of the circles. He hauled her up and supported most of her weight. 

Derek glared at her. He wanted to just leave her here; he didn’t see why they had any obligation to protect her from witches she hadn’t even warned them about. But Stiles had his arms around her, holding her up. 

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Stiles asked. 

“My body’s not had any exercise in nearly four years,” Aisling said, “but I’ve been exercising my magic every day. I can do this.” 

Stiles looked at her for a moment and then said to Derek, “You might want to go first to catch us in case this goes wrong.” 

“I’ll catch _you_ ,” Derek said. 

Aisling seemed to understand all the implications of that, but she nodded her understanding and told Stiles it would be fine. 

Derek opened the window. There were metal catches that limited the size of the opening to a couple of inches, presumably to stop patients jumping out, but Derek grabbed hold of them and snapped them apart, after which he could open the window fully. He climbed out and scrambled down the side of the building, hoping no one was looking out of the other windows. The garden was surrounded by the hospital building on three sides, so a hundred people could be watching his descent. 

He reached the bottom quickly and waited. He couldn’t call up that he was ready without drawing attention, possibly from the guy who’d been left outside the room. The longer he thought he was guarding the only exit, the better. 

After a minute, Stiles poked his head out of the window. He climbed through, sitting on the frame, and helped Aisling up until she was sitting beside him. Derek watched this from below, heart pounding with fear. A fall like this could severely injure Stiles, maybe even kill him, and Derek didn’t trust Aisling an inch. Still, even if Aisling was using Stiles as much as when she’d been possessing him, he was more use to her alive than dead. That meant she was likely to use her power to protect him. 

She took one of Stiles’ hands in her own. She extended her free hand in front of her, muttering under her breath. Wind whipped up. Derek found himself in the heart of a private tornado, buffeted on all sides by the rush of air. 

Aisling slid from her perch on the window, towing Stiles after her. For a moment of terror, Derek’s heart seemed to pause, then the two of them started to fall toward the ground much more slowly than should have been possible. The wind around Derek rushed upwards, slowing their descent. It took several seconds for them to reach the ground. 

Even so, Derek was there beneath Stiles, ready to catch him. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, taking his weight just before his feet hit the ground. 

Aisling he let drop. Her feet landed lightly on the earth, but then her body collapsed as her legs failed to hold her weight. 

“Aisling,” Stiles said, pulling out of Derek’s arms to help her up, “are you OK?” 

“Nothing a few months of physiotherapy wouldn’t fix,” she said. “Too bad I’d get murdered before my first appointment.” 

“Derek, you’ll have to carry her.” 

“Or we could leave her here to fend for herself,” Derek said. But he was already moving before Stiles snapped, “Derek!” at him like this was a horrific notion. 

Derek turned his back to Aisling and bent so that she could climb up in piggyback. He hooked his hands under her legs and she wrapped her arms around him. Derek gave Stiles a glare to show exactly what he thought of this situation, but then he started jogging around the hospital building. They needed to get to the jeep before the guy left on guard thought to check why the room was so quiet. Or someone who’d seen them climb out the window raised an alarm. 

No one started yelling as they left the little garden area and hurried towards the jeep. Stiles ran ahead to unlock it so Derek could dump Aisling in the back and in minutes they were driving away from the hospital. Derek was in the back beside Aisling so he could keep an eye on her and prevent any trouble she might be planning. 

So far, her plans seemed to be more focused on the snacks that still littered the back seats of the jeep. She made a comment about being famished and dove into a bag of chips. Derek watched her with a glower. 

“Where are we heading?” Stiles asked. 

“Anywhere but here,” Aisling answered. “They’ll be after me.” 

Derek glowered at her, “How about we leave you by the side of the road for them to find and Stiles and I go on without you.” 

“Derek,” said Stiles, “they murdered her family. I’d have thought you of all people would have more sympathy.” 

“She’s been using us. She’s been lying since the start.” 

“Because you never would have believed me,” Aisling said. “You thought I was evil and manipulative. If I told you the truth, you would have thought I was spinning a sob story to try and get false sympathy.” 

That was probably true. All he’d known about Aisling was that she’d taken over Stiles’ body. Nothing she could have said would have made him believe she was a victim he should help. He would have argued and fought every step of the way. But by making him think she was manipulating him, she’d actually manipulated him. She’d got his help in a way that the honest truth never would. Derek hated her more for being right. He wanted to punch her in the face but right now she couldn’t win a fight with a two-year-old, so even the urge to hit her brought a little guilt with it. 

“She never lied to me, Derek,” Stiles said. “I don’t think she could have lied to me. She showed me her memories about what happened to her and why she was afraid. I agreed to help her get back to her body.” 

“You knew all along that she wasn’t planning on using me as a host?” 

“I tried to tell you a couple of times,” Stiles said, “but she didn’t think you’d help us if you knew.” 

Derek glared at Aisling again, “You thought I was less likely to help you if I knew you weren’t planning on using me as your puppet?” 

“You were willing to go along with me because you thought it was the only way to secure Stiles’ freedom. You thought you were getting something you wanted out of the arrangement. If I told you I’d be setting him free anyway, what incentive would you have to help?” 

“Keeping Stiles safe. You could have explained about covens and witches willing to break into hospital rooms. If you’d actually given us some information about the people you were afraid of, maybe we could have been prepared.” 

“Or you might have tried to work with them against me,” Aisling said. 

“Derek wouldn’t have done that,” Stiles said. 

“He’s done it before.” She glared at him, saying the name with accusation in her tone. “Jennifer Blake.” 

Derek wasn’t sure why she had such venom in her tone. It wasn’t like she’d even been involved in that situation. All she could know about it was whatever was in Stiles’ memory. 

“She put a spell on me,” Derek said, “and then threatened innocent people unless I helped her.” 

Aisling blinked in surprised. She looked towards Stiles. Stiles stared at Derek in the mirror. 

“She put a spell on you?” Stiles asked. He definitely sounded surprised. 

“You didn’t realise?” Derek asked. He hadn’t really talked about the situation with Jennifer because he hadn’t wanted to admit to being used. Again. But he’d always assumed that Stiles at least knew what had happened there. 

“No,” said Stiles. “I’m sorry.” 

Derek wasn’t exactly sure what Stiles was saying sorry for. Was it just a general expression of sympathy? Or was he apologising for whatever unsympathetic thoughts he might have had about the Jennifer situation? It was clear that Aisling had picked up a very bad impression about the whole event and the only place that could have come from was Stiles. 

Aisling continued, “I knew that you wanted to protect Stiles. You cared more about protecting him than your own life. It was pretty obvious you valued his life over mine. If I’d told you the truth about my situation, you might have duct-taped us to a chair and come here to kill my body. There’s a reason the coven gave me to the hospital to keep alive for so long; if my body died, my spirit would have just vanished.” 

She wasn’t quite accusing since Derek hadn’t actually done anything, but he couldn’t help wondering what he might have done if he’d had this bit of information? Would he have killed Aisling’s body to ensure Stiles’ freedom? He’d killed enemies enough times, but he didn’t think so. There was a difference between killing someone in a fair fight and slaughtering someone unconscious on a bed. 

Everything Aisling knew about him, she knew from Stiles’ memories. Did Stiles think he was that vicious? Did Stiles think he was a cold-blooded killer? 

Memories came back to Derek now, reluctantly rising in a flood of guilt. He’d planned to kill Lydia on the suspicion that she was the kanima. He’d actually tried to kill Jackson, knowing that none of the deaths he’d caused had been his own fault. Stiles had seen him more than once go to violence as his first option. No wonder he thought so badly of him that the spirit possessing him had believed he could kill a coma patient. 

Derek tried to push those thoughts away. He’d discuss them with Stiles when they could finally have some privacy. 

“If these witches want you dead,” he asked Aisling, “why didn’t they just kill your body while you were in Beacon Hills possessing Stiles?” 

“Because killing me isn’t the goal. It’s just a consequence. They want my magic.” 

Derek frowned at her, “I’m sick of half-answers. Just explain everything.” He glanced at Stiles, “Will you know if she misses stuff out?” 

Stiles nodded, but he let Aisling speak. 

“My family have always had strong magical abilities,” she said. “My mom and dad both come from druidic backgrounds and the talent’s been passed down for generations. When we moved here, we knew there was a local coven but we didn’t think that would be a problem. Mom thought we could work together. Instead, Gloria, that was the woman in the hospital, decided to grow her power by consuming ours. There’s a ritual, a way to draw magic out of a person and, basically, destroy their spirit to get the magic out of them.” 

Aisling swallowed. This explanation was clearly difficult for her. 

“We got an invitation to join the coven for a winter festival. It was... it was a big deal. We thought this was going to be the start of a new alliance. They drugged us. I watched them...” She swallowed again. “I watched them kill my parents. Then they put me in the circle to do the ritual on me. They started to pull my spirit out of my body. But Deaglan... The drugs they gave him were wearing off. They hadn’t given him as much because he was little and they didn’t want to kill him too soon. He tried to get me free. But when he broke the circle...” She made a shrugging gesture. “My spirt just floated away. I didn’t learn how to control my movements until much later so I just... floated off, while they threw my brother in the circle and killed him.” 

“So they were left with a body that didn’t have a spirit in it,” Derek said. 

Aisling nodded. “I didn’t know what they did with my body but I guess the figured I’d want it back eventually, so they paid for my hospital treatments and that gave them access to watch over my body.” 

“So they’ve been waiting for you to come back?” 

“And now that I’m back, they’re going to want to suck out my power rather than leave me free to plot revenge.” 

“Do you want revenge?” Derek asked. 

“I want to not die. Revenge would be nice, but I’m not going to go up against the whole coven, especially not now that Gloria has my parents’ power and presumably my brother’s too.” 

“So we just run,” Stiles said. 

Aisling nodded, “They have no way to know who you two are. If I can get far enough away, I should be safe. And once my body’s back in shape, I can keep moving and they’ll never find me.” 

It wasn’t great as far as plans went, but it was one Derek liked a whole lot better than attacking a coven of witches for the sake of a girl who had spent the last few days lying and manipulating him. He ought to feel better about her, knowing that she’d never intended to hold Stiles as her prisoner forever, but he still couldn’t see past the lies. And there were still gaps in her story. 

“How did you end up in Stiles?” he asked. 

“After the ritual went wrong,” Aisling said, “my spirit basically just drifted. It took me a while to learn how to control my movement but then all I could do was move about and see what was happening around me. I couldn’t interact with anyone. I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t talk to anyone. I thought I’d be like that for the rest of my life, just drifting and helpless. Then, I saw Stiles and it was like there was crack. I could get glimpses of people’s auras and there was a gap in his. I was desperate. I needed to try something, anything, to try and talk to someone. So, when he was asleep, I squeezed through the gap.” 

“I thought I was going insane,” Stiles said. “I thought the stress had finally got to me and I was having a full psychotic break. But she talked to me, explained what had happened to her. She showed me her memories. And so I did a bunch of internet research and confirmed that Aisling was a real person and that she was in a hospital in a coma, and we worked out the transfer ritual. I agreed to help her, Derek. I might not have signed up to her invading my head, but once she was inside, I said I’d try to get her home.” 

“And now?” Derek asked. 

“I don’t know. We help her get away from the coven. We’ve come this far.” 

It was obvious that abandoning Aisling wasn’t on the cards for Stiles. Derek could respect that even if he sure as hell didn’t like it. Stiles had told him that Aisling wasn’t evil, just desperate. And Stiles was right that she’d seen her family murdered; Derek could sympathise with that. 

So they just drove. Stiles steered them away from town while Aisling sat in the back seat, moving her limbs around. She must have been out of her body for a long time and now she was trying to get her muscles ready to work again. Lacking any real physiotherapy, this would have to do. 

After several minutes, Stiles’ phone began to ring. 

“Crap. That’s my dad’s ringtone.” He pulled the jeep over at the side of the road. 

“Want me to drive?” Derek offered. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “We should keep moving.” They both hopped out of the jeep, Stiles reaching for his phone. Derek was half-way round to the driver’s seat when Stiles answered. 

“Hey, Dad.” 

“Do you mind telling my why you’ve been involved in a shooting in a North Dakota hospital?” the sheriff asked.


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles froze, then said, “How the hell do you know that?” 

Derek listened in on the sheriff’s shocked reply, “So it’s true?” 

“Um... maybe? What do you know?” 

Derek got into the driver’s seat and gestured for Stiles to get in. He did so, moving like in a trance as he continued the conversation with his dad. Derek pulled the car back onto the road, listening as he drove. 

“Apparently,” the sheriff continued, “someone shot a woman in a hospital and then kidnapped a coma patient. The local sheriff looked at the CCTV footage and saw that the perpetrators got into a blue jeep registered to a Stilinski out of Beacon Hills. Now, Sheriff Miles and I met a conference a couple of years ago and he recognised the name, so he gave me a call. So, Stiles, what the hell is going on?” 

“Well, firstly, there was no kidnapping. The coma patient woke up and came with us of her own free will, so it was just self-discharge without proper paperwork.” 

“And the shooting?” the sheriff asked. 

“I avoided hitting her organs.” 

“Stiles!” 

“Would it help if I told you she’s an evil witch who was responsible for putting that girl in the coma and that she and her friends were trying to finish the job when they found out we were going to wake her up?” 

There was a pause, then the sheriff said, “That would help a lot. How the hell did you end up involved in this?” 

“The girl’s disembodied spirit asked me for help.” 

There was another pause, then, “Is Derek there?” 

“He’s driving right now.” 

“Put the phone on speaker then.” 

Stiles did so. 

“Derek,” the sheriff said, “is what my son is telling me accurate?” 

“Dad! I’m hurt that you’d ask Derek that.” 

Derek spoke over Stiles’ protests, “He’s missed out a few details, but it’s true.” 

“Then the person he shot was a witch trying to kill someone?” 

“And trying to kill Stiles for standing in her way.” 

“OK.” Any anger that had been in the sheriff’s voice had vanished now. “Are you guys safe?” 

“For now,” Stiles said. “We’ve got Aisling with us and the coven will probably be looking for her.” 

“Do you have a plan?” the sheriff asked. 

“No,” Derek said, at the same time as Stiles said, “Yes.” 

“Run like hell is a plan,” Stiles said. 

“We just need to make it more effort than it’s worth to follow me,” Aisling said. “They want my magic. If we make it so they’d have to expend a load of magic to track me down and fight and everything, they’ll decide it’s not worth the effort.” 

“Hi,” the sheriff said. 

“Um.. hi, Mr Stilinski,” Aisling said. “Sorry about, you know, commandeering your son.” 

Derek thought that was interesting wording. The sheriff obviously didn’t know the full details of what Aisling had done to Stiles, but there she was apologising for it anyway. If the sheriff accepted the apology, he didn’t know in full measure what he was accepting. 

“You obviously needed his help,” the sheriff said. 

“I did,” said Aisling. “I’d be dead by now if it weren’t for Stiles. And Derek.” 

Derek suspected that wasn’t completely true. If it weren’t for Stiles, she’d still be a drifting, lost spirit. But Stiles had saved her at the hospital so Derek didn’t call her on the slight inaccuracy. 

“Your problem,” the sheriff said, then corrected it to, “one of your problems, is that they need to know that tracking you would be too much effort. If they start putting time and energy into tracking you, then by the time they’ve figured out it’s not as easy as they’d hoped, they’ll have already invested too much. People don’t like backing down after they’ve already made a significant effort.” 

“So we need to let them know somehow that I’m protected,” Aisling said, “without giving away where I am.” 

“Or exactly what your protections are,” Stiles said. “If they know what you’ve done to protect yourself, they might think they can work around your protection spells.” 

“You work on that,” the sheriff said. “I’ll get back to the local sheriff and try to figure out what the hell I’m going to tell him. In the meantime, you should probably ditch the jeep.” 

Stiles made a pained noise at that suggestion. 

“Call me if you need help,” the sheriff concluded. “I love you.” 

“Love you.” 

Stiles ended the call and stared at his phone for a minute before saying, “I can’t ditch the jeep. I spent a small fortune getting it running again after it caught fire.” 

“Maybe we should let the police catch us,” Aisling said. “I mean, I can tell them that the kidnapping charges are nonsense and you can say that you only shot Gloria because she tried to kill me. I doubt the coven would try anything in the middle of a police station.” 

“That’s a really stupid idea,” Stiles said. “If we get arrested, they might throw the kidnapping charges out when they talk to you but there’s a good chance it will go to trial for the shooting and then we’ll be stuck for months waiting for the case to come up so we can explain that it was self-defence and hope that the jury believes us. Or me, since I’m the one who fired the gun. And in the meantime, they’d let you go and Gloria would probably be waiting right outside to pick up where she left off.” 

“So we’re back to dumping the jeep,” Derek said. 

Stiles stroked his hand along the door for a minute, then said, “OK, we’ve got to be smart about this. We’re not stealing someone else’s car. And we can’t dump the jeep near a car dealership and go buy a new one because that’s too obvious and the cops will be able to figure it out. Dumping it near a public transport hub would be better because they won’t know for sure where we went. Even better if we can trick them into thinking we went somewhere else.” 

“Oh,” Aisling said, then brighter, “Oh!” Stiles twisted round to look at her. “I have an idea.” 

“Stiles,” she said, “the only evidence tying you to the hospital is that someone identified your jeep, right?” 

“There’s probably security camera footage inside that shows us there, but the jeep’s the big one.” 

“And there’s no evidence that you were anywhere near here. You haven't been using your cards or anything and Derek’s been paying for the hotels. There’s no record of you being anywhere, and it doesn’t matter that Derek’s left a trail because there’s nothing to tie him back to the jeep so they won’t be looking for his name.” 

“I guess,” Stiles said. “What’s your plan?” 

“We prove that it’s impossible for you to be anywhere near here because you’re still miles away.” 

There was a moment of silence while Derek tried to figure out all the things wrong with that plan. It was Stiles who pointed it out: “Except that I’m not miles away.” 

“Astral projection,” Aisling said. 

Derek wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but Stiles obviously did because he gaped at Aisling for a minute and then said, “After everything that happened to you, you think that sending my spirit away from my body is a good plan?” 

“It’s not exactly the same as what happened to me. You’re not losing the connection to your physical form, and that allows your astral projection to take physical shape. You astral project back to Las Vegas, where there are cameras everywhere. Your dad requests the security camera footage and sends it to the cops after us, after you, and it proves you couldn’t possibly have been involved in the shooting. In the meantime, we dump the jeep and high-tail it back to Vegas by some other means and pretend we never left. You never left.” 

“But how do we explain the jeep?” Derek asked. 

“If I never left Vegas,” Stiles said, “then I wouldn’t have needed the jeep. Someone might have stolen it without me noticing. We don’t need to prove it was stolen, we just need to give enough evidence that I wasn’t physically near the hospital to stop anyone chasing me. Then once no one’s looking for me, I can request the jeep back from evidence.” He seemed brighter about the fact that he wouldn’t lose the jeep forever than he was about not being wanted for armed assault. 

“OK,” said Derek, thinking it all over, “so we dump the jeep, Stiles does this astral projection thingy, we find an alternate means of transport back to Vegas, and we find a way to contact Gloria and the coven to tell them it would be too much effort to find you.” It was close enough to a plan to make Derek feel a little better, though he would have preferred some details in places. 

The first part of the plan was easy, at least Derek thought it was until Aisling got started. Derek pulled the jeep off the side of the road, behind a cluster of trees, and they all got out, with Derek grabbing their stuff from the back. Aisling stood there with her hands on the hood. For a moment, Derek thought she was using the jeep to help her stand given her current physical condition, but her eyes were closed, her face locked in concentration. Then the jeep shimmered. The jeep faded. 

It was still there. Derek could reach out and touch it. And it wasn’t invisible either. He could still see it, but it took effort to make his eyes focus on it. It was like looking at a magic eye puzzle, taking effort to see the image that was hidden in what was right in front of him. 

“Cool,” said Stiles. “A perception filter.” 

Aisling chuckled, “A basic glamour. I don’t have the stuff for a proper invisibility ritual, so this will only hold up until dawn. Or until it rains.” 

It would be enough to keep anyone from finding the jeep until they were further away. But Aisling wasn’t done. She turned to Stiles and Derek. 

“You’re next,” she said. 

Derek was not happy at the idea of having a spell put on him, even though Aisling insisted it would be superficial, just altering his appearance enough that he wouldn’t match any description of them from the hospital. She promised the spell wouldn’t alter his thoughts or behaviour in any way. Still, Derek hesitated until Stiles reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“It’s OK, Derek,” he said. “I trust her. I can go first if you want.” 

But Derek shook his head. He wasn’t going to let Aisling put a spell on Stiles without testing it first. 

“Relax,” Aisling said. “I’ve had a lot of practice with glamours. I never had a single, visible zit in high school.” 

So Derek stood there, while Aisling leaned on Stiles for support and gathered her magic for the spell. She put her hand on Derek’s forehead. It felt like something cold and slimy ran over his skin. He shuddered at the sensation, but then Aisling’s hand dropped away. Derek looked down at his body and couldn’t help seeing the cleavage right there in front of him. Literally. 

Stiles snorted. 

“Sorry, man, but your expression is hilarious.” 

“You made me a girl?” Derek asked, and his voice sounded different too, slightly higher. He didn’t sound at all like himself and that was more disconcerting than the change to his appearance. His had to close his eyes and just breathe in his own scent for a moment, to remind himself that that hadn’t changed, that he was still himself. 

“People are much more likely to pick up a group of hitchhiking girls,” Aisling said, “and the cops will be looking for two guys and a girl.” 

She turned to Stiles, still leaning on him for support, and did the spell again. A moment later, Derek felt his breath catch as he could have been looking at Erica. He wondered if Aisling had stolen their new appearances from Stiles’ memories. He wondered who he looked like; if it was someone else they’d lost. 

“You OK?” Stiles asked Derek, with Erica’s voice. Derek nodded, even though he didn’t feel remotely OK. This was a good plan, Aisling was right. The cops wouldn’t give them a second glance and no one would be able to give evidence about where they’d gone so they could get their alternate story arranged. He couldn’t even be angry with Aisling because she probably needed to focus on someone real to make the spell work realistically. He just didn’t have to like it.

Stiles reached out for Derek again and put a hand on his arm. It still felt like Stiles’ hand. That helped. Derek forced himself to give Stiles a reassuring smile, even though he had no idea what that would look like on his current face. It was apparently enough, because Stiles nodded. They could get through this. This was just a temporary situation to get them out of danger. He could cope. 

Aisling did one final spell on herself. She didn’t change her entire body the way she had with Stiles and Derek, just made her frail limbs seem stronger and her pallor seem healthier. When she was done, no one would guess she had spent years in hospital, thought she still needed to lean against Stiles for support as they walked back to the road. 

As the first car approached, Derek stuck out his thumb.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't been able to stick to my usual update schedule with this fic. I had a tight book deadline I needed to meet but now I'm in the editing phase for that... which means I'll probably get bored and procrastinate by writing fanfic. :) 
> 
> I'll try and not leave quite such a long gap before the next chapter. I apologise if there are typos in this but I wanted to get something posted.

It took about fifteen minutes before a car slowed down and a middle-aged guy offered them a lift. Derek suspected it would have taken him much longer if he’d looked like himself. Three girls waiting together probably looked a lot less threatening. Derek got in the front. Partly this was so that Stiles could help Aisling into the back and she could help him with the spell. Partly it was for safety, since Derek could more easily fight this guy if he turned out to be dangerous. 

Not that that seemed likely. The guy was more likely to be in danger of getting slapped by Stiles given the way he’d gawked at the Erica-disguised body. But he’d stopped and even offered to help Aisling, who needed to lean heavily on Stiles to stand. 

“What happened?” he asked. “Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” Aisling said. “Old injury.” 

“What are you doing all the way out here?” the guy asked. 

“Car trouble,” Stiles said. “We just want a lift back to civilisation but the last guy who offered made some inappropriate suggestions about how we could repay the favour and so we had to get out.” 

He still looked like Erica and his pointed glower got the message across. The guy turned his attention to the road and stopped trying to stare at Stiles’ new cleavage. He started driving. In the back seat, Stiles got on with his spell. He’d talked it over with Aisling while they’d waited for a lift. They didn’t have anything for a ritual, so the whole thing was down to Stiles’ gift and his strength of will. Stiles had been nervous about that, but Aisling had insisted this was a really simple spell that should be absolutely no problem for him. Derek had heard the lie in her voice, but he knew that magic was more about belief than anything else. If he told Stiles that Aisling was lying about this being an easy spell then that might be like taking away Dumbo’s magic feather. Better to let Stiles believe it was easy. 

In the backseat, Stiles leaned back and closed his eyes. Aisling held his hand gently. Below the car’s engine and the tires on the road, Derek could hear the soft sound of Stiles’ breathing steadying into something like meditation. 

“Is your friend alright?” asked the driver. 

“It’s been a long day,” Derek replied. 

Partly to avoid any further attempts at conversation, Derek pulled out his phone. He started texting the sheriff to let him know the plan, though he didn’t phrase it quite like that. 

_Stiles and I never left Vegas,_ Derek texted. _Left jeep parked somewhere. Can’t remember name of lot. If not there someone else must have taken it. Stiles will contact you with where he’s been caught on video camera in last hour or so then you can the tapes. That should be proof enough for your friend. No one could get between the hospital and Vegas that fast._

If anyone other than the sheriff looked at the messages, they’d see the cover story, but the sheriff would understand that they were faking the camera records. 

Derek hoped they were faking the camera records. He glanced behind him. Stiles was motionless in the back seat, eyes closed. Derek wasn’t sure if that meant the spell was working and Stiles’ spirit was now wandering around Las Vegas, or if Stiles had simply fallen asleep. 

Derek had the frustrating, helpless feeling again. He hated not being able to do anything. This whole plan was dependent on Stiles. Stiles had to work a spell he’d never done before without any tools or ritual, and if this didn’t work then he could get arrested for kidnapping and assault. Derek was aware that he could get arrested too, because he had been caught on security camera in the hospital just as Stiles had. This was a problem for both of them, but Stiles was the one doing all the work to get them out of it. 

Derek stared at his phone, watching the _OK_ message come in from the sheriff, wishing he could do more. He didn’t have magic, at least not in a way that could be useful. About the only useful thing he’d done on the whole trip was pay for things and even that could come crashing down on them. If the police found him and Stiles together, then Derek’s credit card records could be enough to condemn them both. 

He tried not to think about that; there was nothing he could do about it now. He had to work out how to get back to Vegas without leaving a trail. They needed to do it as fast as possible, but they couldn’t just hop on a plane or their travel records would show that they’d done so. Unless the camera trick was enough to completely dismiss them from suspicion, they had to be careful not to leave any trail whatsoever. 

He wondered if Aisling could transport them with magic, but he suspected if she could that she would have done it already. He couldn’t ask her with the driver sitting beside him. 

Derek looked back at Stiles again, feeling the disconcerting confusion of seeing Erica sitting there. He couldn’t tell what was going on, couldn’t read Stiles in Erica’s shape the way he normally would. The stillness was eerie, utterly unlike Stiles. He took that as a sign that the spell was working. 

“You girls aren’t from round here, I take it?” the driver asked. 

“No,” Derek said. 

“I don’t mean to pry. I’m just curious what you’d be doing up here by yourselves.” 

“Just passing through.” 

“Not much of a one for conversation, are you?” 

Derek shrugged. He wondered if he ought to try talking to the guy as a distraction technique, to stop him wondering about what might be happening in the back seat, but Derek couldn’t think of what he should say. If he tried talking, he could give something away or make them sound suspicious. He didn’t have the gift for general chatter that Stiles had. 

“Don’t worry,” the driver said. “I’ll get you where you’re going soon enough. Then you girls won’t have to worry about talking to an old man like me.” His smile attempted to turn the last part into a joke, but there was something off about it. Something in the man’s voice or his heartbeat rang false. 

Maybe it was as simple as the man not really thinking he was old. Derek wished their ability to judge lies could be more accurate. Still, something about it put him on edge, made him suspicious, even though he knew this could just be his own sense of unease making him paranoid. 

“You live nearby?” Derek asked, forcing himself to say something. Maybe more conversation would give him a better read on this guy, maybe that was something he could do while Stiles tried his magic. 

“Yeah. My family’s been in the area for some years,” the man said. Again, that slight ring of falseness that might have been a lie. Or maybe the man was just uncomfortable at having silent strangers in his car. Either way, Derek felt the need to be cautious. He slipped his phone away so that he’d have both hands free, just in case, not that he wanted to fight a guy in a moving car. 

Derek wished Stiles would open his eyes. He’d feel a lot better knowing Stiles was safely back inside his body and the spell had worked. Or not worked. He could cope with the spell not working, he just wanted to see Stiles awake and moving like normal. He wanted to see Stiles looking like Stiles again, but he could wait on that one. 

The driver pulled off at a junction, taking a narrow road into some trees. Derek frowned around at the woods. 

“I thought you were taking us into town?” Derek said. 

“This is a short cut. Less traffic this way.” The man’s hands were tense around the steering wheel and the scent of fear-sweat was obvious in the closed environment of the car. 

“Stop the car,” Derek said. 

“It’s really not that far.” The man was definitely lying now. 

“Stop the car!” Derek let his eyes shift and his claws extend. The man glanced at him and the sharp scent of terror filled the space, but he kept driving. Derek wondered what would happen if he clawed the man while he was in control of a car. The man was clearly afraid of Derek, but he wasn’t freaking out as much as Derek might have expected. The first thought that crept into Derek’s mind was that this man already knew about werewolves. 

Derek risked a glance back at the backseat. Stiles was still sitting there, eyes closed, unaware of this exchange. Stiles was utterly defenceless right now. Wherever this man was taking them it wasn’t going to be good for them. 

“Stop the car if you want to live,” Derek said, raising his claws to the driver’s throat. 

The man’s hands were clenched around the wheel. He didn’t seem about to stop. 

Aisling leaned forward and touched a hand to the back of the driver’s head. In an instant, the driver slumped forward over the wheel, unconscious. After a heartbeat of panic, Derek grabbed the steering wheel, holding the car steady as it began to slow. Derek couldn’t get to the brakes, but he could at least steer the car over to the edge of the road as friction slowed it for him. 

“What was that?” Derek asked. 

“Basic sleep spell,” Aisling said. “He’ll be out for about half an hour.” 

“Is Stiles OK?” 

“He’s still projecting. The spell’s lasting much longer than I thought it would.” 

Naturally, Derek’s mind went first to the fear of disaster. If Aisling had expected Stiles to wake up by now, did that mean there was a problem? Aisling had spent years in a hospital bed because her spirit had been separated from her body. Derek couldn’t cope with the thought that the same might happen to Stiles. 

“Did something go wrong?” he asked, as he put the car into park and turned to look at the two in the back. 

Aisling shook her head, “No. His body’s still reacting normally. His mind’s intact and the spell’s working, we just have to wait for him to return.” 

Derek fixed her with a look. “We’re in the middle of nowhere with a guy that just tried to kidnap us and who will wake up soon, and you want to wait?” 

“What else can we do?” she asked. “My body’s too weak. I can’t walk on my own and you can’t carry both of us.” 

Derek got out of the car, slamming the door in his anger. He was furious with Aisling for this whole situation. It was her plan that had got them into this, her fault that Stiles was in this mess in the first place. He was willing to bet that the kidnapping attempt was her fault as well because otherwise it was way too much of a coincidence. The driver must have tracked her down somehow to try what they’d failed at the hospital. 

He seriously considered the possibility of leaving Aisling here. He could carry Stiles back up to the main road and try to hitch a ride with someone else. He could let Aisling deal with these people. 

Instead, he opened up the trunk to look for something to tie the driver up with. He knew Stiles wouldn’t abandon Aisling. He’d stuck with her, insisted they needed to help her, and so Derek knew Stiles wouldn’t forgive him if Derek just deserted her now. Much though he wanted to just look out for himself and Stiles, he knew he couldn’t, because sooner or later Stiles would open his eyes and Derek didn’t want to see disappointment in them. He didn’t want Stiles to look at him like he was the sort of person to leave a helpless woman to the mercy of a coven of witches, however mad he was at her. 

There was a roll of duct tape in the trunk. Derek didn’t know if that was part of the kidnap plan, or if this guy took the same approach to car repair as Stiles. Either way, he grabbed the roll and went round to the driver’s side, hoping that the sleep spell was strong enough to keep the guy out while Derek manhandled him. 

“Do you have a plan?” Derek asked, looping tape around the guy’s legs, pinning them together. 

Aisling shook her head, “I didn’t have plans beyond getting back to myself.” 

“Then maybe you should have told us what was going on so we could have _made_ some plans.” 

“I’m sorry,” Aisling said. 

“I don’t care if you’re sorry. If Stiles gets hurt, I’m holding you responsible.” 

Aisling seemed to flinch. Derek flipped the driver over in his seat so he could tape the guy’s arms behind his back. 

“I don’t want Stiles to get hurt,” Aisling said. “He helped me when he didn’t have to. I’ve been inside his head now, I know him in a way I’ve never known anyone else. I don’t want to see him hurt.” 

“Then you’d better do what we tell you,” said a voice from the trees behind Derek.


	12. Chapter 12

The woman from the hospital stood there, two other women standing right behind her. Derek could smell a trace of blood, but the woman, Gloria Aisling had called her, stood with no apparent concern for the fact she’d been shot a little while earlier. Human medicine wasn’t that powerful, and there was none of the tell-tale scents that he would have expected if she’d been in intense pain. Derek wondered if she’d healed herself with magic. Just how powerful was she? 

There was no magic circle to protect them now. Derek calculated risks in his head. If he attacked her, her two companions could stop him or do something to Stiles. Stiles was too vulnerable right now for him to take any chances. 

“How did you find us?” Aisling asked. 

Gloria smiled in a patronising way, “You’ve been throwing magic around like it’s a game. Did you really think we wouldn’t sense it? You were shining like a beacon earlier; you must have gotten stronger. Maybe all that money we invested in your hospital bills was worth it.” 

Aisling raised a hand towards Gloria. The air between them shimmered for a moment. Gloria smirked a little. 

“You’re powerful but you’re not that powerful,” she said. 

Aisling stared at Gloria a moment longer, and then at Stiles, lying beside her in the back of the car. Despair was written on her features. Derek saw the moment when fear became resolve. She looked back at Gloria and said, “Let the others go. You can have me, but don’t hurt them.” 

That was the moment Derek knew he was doomed. It was one thing to leave Aisling to her fate when she was just a selfish spirit using Stiles’ body for her own purposes. It was something else entirely when she was a frightened girl willing to sacrifice herself for Stiles. In that moment, Derek knew he had to fight for her too. 

“Stiles has family in law enforcement,” Derek said, “and they know where we are. If you hurt us, any of us, you’ll have to deal with his family and my pack.” 

He didn’t like having to threaten them with someone else, but Gloria’s eyes had skimmed over him like he was nothing, not worth considering. All her attention was on Aisling. They obviously didn’t consider him any sort of threat. He wouldn’t mind if he thought they were underestimating him, but he wasn’t sure how he could win this fight. If he were here alone, he’d take the witches on and be damned, but he knew he was vulnerable right now because Stiles was vulnerable. 

Derek wished he had a weapon. What the hell had happened to the gun? Was it on Stiles somewhere? Or had he left it in the glamoured jeep? He really should have paid attention to that earlier but there was no time for regrets now. He needed a plan. 

He had no weapons, no way to shield himself from their magic, and no way to protect Stiles. If he had just one of those things, that would be something. He turned to Aisling. 

“Can you make a magic circle around the car?” he asked. The witches would overhear, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about that. 

“With what?” Aisling asked. Of course, the copper and silver and everything was back at the hospital. Derek remembered Jennifer making a magic circle in a couple of seconds with a handful of mountain ash but they didn’t have any mountain ash. 

Gloria smirked at them again. 

“You really have no other options,” she said. “We have no interest in an untrained kid with barely a spark and his pet werewolf.” Derek growled, more at the insult to Stiles than himself. “Come quietly and we’ll let them go once we’re done with you. Resist, and we’ll start with the wolf.” 

Derek had no intention of being used as leverage. 

“Shield Stiles,” he called as he leapt at Gloria, claws out and fangs bared. He was mid-air, less than a yard away from her, when a force struck him in the chest. He flew backwards, hit the ground, and tumbled. He rolled onto his feet with the momentum, ignoring the pain of the impact, knowing that bruises would heal. 

He started forward again. Gloria chuckled, a patronising smile on her face as she raised one hand. It was like a lead bar wrapped around his neck, choking the air from his throat. Derek gasped and struggled, fingers tearing at the space in front of his neck, but there was nothing there for him to pull away. He tried to move, tried to pull away from the force, tried to breathe. All he could think was that Stiles really should be awake to see someone using a Darth Vader force choke on him. 

“Let him go!” Aisling yelled. There was a ripple in the air and then, for a moment, Derek could breathe again. He heaved air into his burning lungs. 

Then Aisling yelled. The car skidded sideways. Derek saw her holding her hands up in front of her, straining to push pack against some invisible force. The two other witches were obviously focused on her, but Gloria turned back to Derek. He tried to rush at her again, but that choking force was back. It squeezed around his neck, blocking air from his lungs. He struggled against the hold, writhing in the grip of the witch. She smiled coldly at him, the sight of it blurring and swimming amid dark spots in his vision. 

“You should have just cooperated,” she told Derek, as his lungs burned and the world faded to black. 

***  
Derek’s head pounded as awareness forced itself in on him. He opened his eyes, the world seeming too bright. He shut his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the glorious sensation of being able to fill his lungs with air, but as his consciousness became more complete, he knew he had to move. The only reason he would still be alive was if the witches were still using him as leverage. 

He flung himself upwards and started moving, only to run straight into an invisible barrier. He looked down and saw the circle of dark powder on the ground around him. Mountain ash. Someone laughed. 

Derek looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in the middle of a clearing in some woods. Across the other side of the clearing, Stiles was still unconscious, all trace of the disguising glamour gone, but now he was surrounded by a circle of mountain ash. That had to be a problem. If Stiles’ spirit was still away from his body, astral projecting or whatever Aisling had called it, he probably wouldn’t be able to cross the boundary back to himself. That was probably the point, to keep Stiles from interfering with the witches’ spells, but what would that mean for Stiles long term? Would Stiles end up like Aisling, a spirit completely disconnected from his body? 

Aisling was in another circle, this one made of ruins drawn on the earth in a sticky substance that Derek knew instantly from the scent was blood. From the cuts on her bound arms, it was her blood. She looked pale and scared, with tear tracks down her white face. She looked across at Derek now and tried to smile. The expression was hollow and empty on her face. 

“Tell Stiles I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to drag him into this.” 

Derek wanted to say something reassuring, but he knew that anything he tried would sound fake. He was trapped inside a mountain ash barrier. He didn’t see a way to help her. The witches came through the woods. Derek counted fifteen of them, including those he’d seen at the hospital, and the guy who’d picked them up hitchhiking. The five men in the group stayed around the edges of the clearing, fanning out into a circle. The ten women moved deliberately towards Aisling. They formed a loose circle around the bloody runes. Only Gloria stepped over the line and into the circle in front of Aisling. 

Derek snarled and threatened, pressing against the invisible barrier of the mountain ash until blue light glowed around his hands. He knew that a barrier like this could be broken, so he pushed with all his strength, pouring into it the need to reach the others, the need to protect. He strained against the barrier. But the only reward was the mocking laughter of one of the male witches. 

Gloria ignored him entirely. She crouched down in front of Aisling and drew a silver knife. Derek yelled at her to stop, but she acted like she couldn’t hear, just like she couldn’t hear Aisling’s shaking sob as her eyes fell on the knife. 

Gloria pricked her finger with the knife and then drew a mark on Aisling’s forehead with the blood. Aisling was crying but unmoving. She hadn’t moved a muscle since Gloria had stepped into the circle, and Derek suspected magic was at work here as well. He remembered the kanima venom, the way he’d been paralysed and helpless as his own fangs, his personal weapons, were used to serve an enemy. He remembered the sickening helplessness of that experience and he felt that again now, standing behind the line of mountain ash, trapped away from this crying woman who’d already lost too much. 

Derek looked around for something he might throw across the barrier. He wanted a rock or something that he could hurl at Gloria’s head, but the ground beside him had been swept clean. There was nothing but bare dirt beneath his feet. It wasn’t like he could hurt someone with a handful of dirt. 

He looked across at the circle in the middle of the clearing, at the neat lines of runes. Derek didn’t know enough about magic to know whether this would be successful, but he knew that he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t try something. He’d been to too many funerals. 

He bent down and scraped up a handful of dirt, the soil clinging damply to his fingers as he balled it together like he was making a snowball. He took aim, and hurled the entirely-non-supernatural dirt through the mountain ash barrier. It disintegrated mid-air, trailing soil, but some of it landed with a muddy splat on the runes. 

Gloria turned away from the symbol she was drawing on Aisling’s throat, and glared at Derek. It was the first time she’d looked at him like he might matter at all. Even though her expression was more of one annoyed by the buzzing of an insect, that was something. Derek bent down to gather another handful of earth. 

“You don’t want to do that,” she said. 

“Why not?” Derek threw another handful of muck. Enough of it reached its destination to completely obscure one of the runes in the circle. 

Gloria drew a handkerchief out of a pocket and started carefully wiping blood from the end of her knife, while Derek bent to gather more dirt. 

“Firstly,” she said, “if you make me redraw the spell, I’ll just have to make Aisling bleed some more. Secondly, if you make yourself an irritation to me, I may reconsider my decision to let you live when we’re done here. You should reconsider whether you really want to throw that.” She nodded to the new handful of damp earth Derek held. 

Derek hurled the dirt. This time, one of the witches flicked a hand and the glob of dirt veered off course, splatting uselessly outside the circle of runes. 

The ring of witches around Aisling shifted, more of them coming to Derek’s side of the circle, blocking his aiming and using their powers to divert any new dirt missiles he hurled. He threw a few more until it became obvious that he’d achieved all he was going to achieve with that tactic. He’d annoyed Gloria a little and slowed her down by a few minutes. That wasn’t going to save Aisling’s life. 

Gloria proceeded with her spell. She slice a cut along Aisling’s forearm and gathered the blood into a small bowl, before using her finger to draw the runes Derek had just obscured. She didn’t bother bandaging up the dripping cut. Presumably, she didn’t think Aisling would live long enough for the wound to matter. 

Derek was helpless again. He checked his pockets, hoping for anything he could use, but they’d taken everything while he’d been unconscious. He couldn’t call for help and he had absolutely nothing to use as a weapon. The witches couldn’t easily hurt him because their spells couldn’t pass through the mountain ash any more than he could, but his protection wasn’t going to protect Aisling. He needed to get out of the mountain ash. 

He looked down at the dirt beneath his feet, the only weapon at his disposal right now. His first plan with it had failed but maybe he could try something else with it. He needed to be quick with this because the witches would work out what he was attempting instantly. He also needed to be quick because Gloria had wiped her knife again and pricked another finger. She was back to drawing markings on Aisling’s skin. 

Derek scraped up another handful of dirt, keeping his eyes on Aisling and Gloria. He raised his hand up as though to hurl the earth at Gloria, but he let it fall almost at his feet, the splat of dirt landing across the line of mountain ash. 

One of the witches gave a yell of alarm and that gave Derek hope that this idea might work. Mountain ash wasn’t all-powerful. Maybe it could be disrupted. He flung himself at the barrier with all his strength, aiming at the point where the ash was obscured by the dirt. The witches were moving towards him as the air in front of him glowed a vivid blue, but he was sure he was further out than should be possible given the barrier. 

He tried to draw extra strength from that, pressing forward with all his need to get through. He focused on that urgency, on knowing that he had no choice but to make this work. He remembered Stiles’ words, about imagination being more important than knowledge, but right now knowledge was what he was leaning on. He _knew_ that a mountain ash barrier could be beaten, so he was damn well going to beat it because Stiles’ life depended on it. 

There was a crack like a gunshot and then Derek tumbled forward onto the earth, the force he’d been pressing against suddenly gone. He tried to turn the tumble into a full roll, but then the witches were on him. Force slammed into him, pinning him to the earth. Aside from Gloria, all the witches were around him now, using their magic to trap him. He writhed against it, finding leverage he hadn’t had when Gloria had been pinning him, but he couldn’t fight all of them at once. He struggled as an enormous weight crushed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He tried to kick out, or slash with claws, until it felt like lead was wrapping around his limbs. 

Derek tried not to despair. He had to keep fighting. But he’d barely made it a foot outside the circle. He still couldn’t reach Aisling. He couldn’t break the barrier around Stiles. He couldn’t do anything but squirm in the dirt, his strength struggling beneath the raw magic of the witches. 

As he writhed, he heard another cracking sound and for an instant wondered if the other barrier had fallen. But this sound was different. It actually was a gunshot. 

Some of the weight suddenly lifted as several of the witches turned to see where the shot had come from.


	13. Chapter 13

“Police! Step away from the girl!” 

There was a rush of heat and light. Through the wall of bodies, Derek saw a stream of fire burst from Gloria in the direction that the voice had come from. That voice started swearing violently as the tree he was hiding behind burst into flames. 

“Kill him!” Gloria ordered. “And kill the wolf!” 

Derek started moving before the witches had a chance to trap him again. He slashed his claws along the legs of the closest man and then leapt to his feet, turning and snarling, slashing at the next witch. 

Maybe the ones in pain were less focused on him. Maybe it was because some were trying to stop the guy with a gun, but the force pressed in around him was less strong this time. It was like moving through treacle, but he could still move, and the witches were focused on their magic, not physical fighting. Derek managed to get his arms moving and slammed his hand across the face of one man, knocking the guy off his feet. 

There was another gunshot. Gloria staggered as blood burst from her shoulder. 

Derek had his hand around the throat of one of the other witches. In that instant after the gunshot, something changed in this woman’s eyes. The cold determination changed to confusion and fear. She looked at Derek like she didn’t know what was going on. 

An instant later, the uncaring expression was back. Magic slammed into Derek’s chest and knocked him to the ground again. He skidded along the dirt. He got a hand under himself and pushed upwards, leaping back onto his feet. 

It was hard for Derek to follow what was going on. All was chaos. He had to focus on his own problems. One of the witches raised a hand and a blade of ice materialised in mid-air, slicing towards Derek. He dodged, but the blade caught his side. He ignored the pain and tried to dodge again as more ice shards formed from nowhere and shot towards his face. 

His attention on the ice witch, he didn’t notice the tree roots writhing around his feet until they had his legs trapped. Derek fell, off-balance, when he tried to dodge another ice spear and couldn’t get his feet to move. He slammed into the ground, agony flaring in his ankle with the snap of bone. 

This time, all he could do to stop the next barrage of ice blades was to bring his arms up to shield his head. His arms stung with cuts and he blinked away the splatters of his own blood that fell down over his face. 

The witches weren’t just trying to trap him now. They wanted him dead. He didn’t have weapons against their magic. He struggled to pull his broken ankle out from the snare of tree roots but another tree was moving. Another root broke free of the earth, moving with supple speed to wrap around his neck and pull taut. He got fingers under it, tugging, trying to keep enough space to breathe as more ice sliced into his flesh. 

“Derek!” Stiles’ voice rang through the clearing. 

But even from this prone position, Derek could look out of the corner of his eye and see the other circle, where Stiles still lay, unmoving. Stiles was still unconscious. So what was this voice? Was it just Derek’s imagination? 

A stick whacked around the head of one of the witches. 

The tree roots were suddenly nothing more than lumps of wood. Derek yanked the one around his throat to splinters and pulled his legs free. Even as Derek sat up, Stiles was standing over him, swinging his stick at one of the other witches. 

But Derek could see the other witch through Stiles’ body. 

“What the hell?” Derek said. 

“Stop Gloria!” Stiles yelled. 

This was not the time to argue, especially since Stiles was semi-transparent and fading by the minute. Stiles swung his stick at another witch as Derek scrambled to his feet. His ankle protested by sending shooting pains up his leg, but he ignored that, knowing the bone would be already knitting back together. He charged through the chaos, pushing through the other witches to reach that central circle, where Gloria had her hand on Aisling’s head and was chanting. Aisling’s eyes were rolled back so only the whites were visible, a horrible, gasping, choking noise issuing from her throat. 

Derek drove his claws into Gloria’s back. 

Aisling crumpled to the earth, the spell interrupted. 

Derek sliced his hands through Gloria’s flesh. Warm blood spurted out around his fingers, spraying out to hit the ground in red splatters. Gloria’s blood splashed across the symbols of blood already drawn on the ground and she screamed. 

She hadn’t made a cry of pain when Derek had first pierced her with his claws, but now she flung back her head and yelled in agony. The bloody symbols shone, glowing red like they were lit by some wicked fire. Gloria’s spilled blood blazed too. 

Derek stepped back quickly. He grabbed Aisling and hauled her from the circle moments before the glowing blood turned to a pillar of searing flame. He had to fight down the memories as he smelled the stink of burning flesh. Gloria was still screaming, her voice echoing in Derek’s mind with the memories of his family, her screams becoming their screams. Derek couldn’t tear his eyes away, despite the light that blinded and seared at his eyes. 

And then she was gone, leaving no remains except the smell of burning flesh still cloying in Derek’s nostrils. 

“What the hell?” It wasn’t Derek that asked this time, but the voice from earlier. A man staggered into the clearing, heading for a gun that had fallen or been thrown aside earlier. Blood dripped from multiple cuts and his sheriff’s uniform was slashed and torn. 

“We surrender!” said one of the witches, before the man’s hand had even closed on his gun. 

Around the clearing, the witches were looking at each other with shock and horror on their faces. The sound of retching filled the air as more than one of them started vomiting. Others broke down in tears. 

“What the hell?” the sheriff asked again. 

“Someone break the barrier!” Stiles yelled. He was barely visible now, just a shadow in the air. Panic rose in Derek at the sight because he knew he could never break the barrier fast enough. 

But one of the witches was there, kneeling in the dirt by the mountain ash circle. She swiped her hands apart, breaking the barrier. The shadow Stiles vanished in a heartbeat and the Stiles lying in the circle drew a load, gasping breath and jerked upwards. 

Derek ran to him, shoving the witch aside to crouch in front of Stiles and look him up and down, checking he was alright. His calm was not helped by Stiles saying, “That was close,” and throwing his arms around Derek. 

Derek held Stiles close, feeling how solid he was, feeling his warmth, reassuring himself that this was real and Stiles was alive and awake. He didn’t want to let Stiles go, but he also didn’t want to stay inside a mountain ash circle where they could get trapped again if the witches reverted to the way they’d been minutes before. He didn’t believe they would, now that Gloria had been burned to nothing, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. So Derek stood, pulling Stiles up with him, and moved outside of the mountain ash. 

In the middle of the clearing, the sheriff was checking Aisling’s pulse, already radioing for backup and medical assistance. The sheriff looked like he might need assistance too. He looked pale and shaken, though Derek suspected that was from something other than his injuries. He was looking around him like he expected to wake up. 

The sheriff looked towards Stiles, who was still clutching the front of Derek’s shirt, leaning his weight into Derek. 

“I doubt you want to be here when back-up arrives,” he said. 

“What about Aisling?” Stiles asked. She hadn’t moved since Gloria’s spell had been interrupted. 

“She needs medical attention. I’ll make sure she has protection.” 

“We won’t hurt her,” one of the witches said. “Not now Gloria’s dead. She...” The witch started crying again. If Derek weren’t so determined not to let Stiles out of his arms, he might have gone over there to comfort her. He remembered how it had felt to realise what Jennifer had done to him, the sickness that had seemed to fill him at the knowledge of how he’d been used, at how his will had been twisted to the point where he sided with a monster yet again. 

Instead, he walked away through the trees with Stiles still in his arms. 

***

Stiles sat by the stream while Derek washed away the blood from his healing injuries. They were far enough away from the clearing that they weren’t likely to be discovered, but close enough that Derek had heard the sirens approaching minutes earlier. 

“Are you going to explain?” Derek asked. 

“I did the astral projection thing and it worked better than I could have hoped. I ended up in Vegas and I walked around for a bit. I made sure I got caught on cameras in the casinos and an ATM machine. I got into an argument with a bartender about my ID so I’d have a witness that I was there, which resulted in my getting kicked out of the casino with a lot of yelling and so hopefully a bunch more witnesses. I kept expecting to get sucked back into my own body so I was rushing around trying to get on as many cameras as possible but then I realised I’d been there ages and that it must have been enough. So I tried to wake up. I should have just snapped back into my own body but it didn’t work. I may have had a panic attack in the bathrooms.” 

Stiles said that with a smile, trying to make a joke of it, but there was strain in his voice. Derek could only imagine how terrifying that must have been. 

“When I couldn’t make myself wake up, I tried focusing on you and Aisling instead and I saw Gloria setting up the spell while her minions stuck you in a mountain ash circle. I knew I couldn’t break the barriers myself in astral form and I couldn’t take on a whole coven of witches, so I asked myself what I’d do if I was at home.” 

“You’d call your dad.” 

Stiles nodded. “Of course, the local sheriff doesn’t have the same experience with supernatural stuff, but he obviously had my dad’s number so I figured he could call and get confirmation. It took me a few minutes to convince him that a guy materialising out of thin air was a sign of magic and not a nervous breakdown, but I got him to see that he had to come help. What happened with you?” 

“I got force choked,” Derek said. 

“Seriously?” Stiles sounded considerably more excited than any person ought to be on hearing that a friend had been choked, but it was no more than Derek had expected. 

 

“She didn’t do the Darth Vader breathing while she was doing it,” Derek said, “so I’m not sure it counts.” 

Stiles laughed, probably more than the joke deserved. He shook his head as he did so. There was something more than amusement on his face. 

“Are you OK?” Derek asked. 

“I’d just about given up on anyone getting my Star Wars jokes and then you come out with that. You’re amazing, you know that?” 

Derek’s heart gave a jolt at the heartfelt truth in Stiles’ tone. He didn’t know what to say to him, how to react. He could only look at Stiles, staring at him in surprise. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.” 

“No... it’s...” Derek struggled to get his thoughts in order. “You’re amazing too. You came up with a plan even when you were separated from your body. You brought the cavalry. I would probably be dead right now if you hadn’t thought of that.” 

Stiles looked away, sheepish. All his usual, blustering bravado had vanished. 

“I just knew I had to do something. I couldn’t let them kill you. You’re too... You’re too important to me, Derek.” 

Derek wasn’t sure what made him do it. He closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ lips. This wasn’t like the kiss in the hospital. This was soft, gentle, a promise of a future held between their lips, a sharing of breath and life. 

“I love you,” Stiles whispered into the kiss.


	14. Chapter 14

This time, they walked into the hospital and asked for Aisling by name. She was in a different ward now, still with people in long term care but without such a need for frequent monitoring. There were two deputies standing watch outside the room and they radioed in to the station to find out if they should let Stiles and Derek in to see Aisling. 

When they were finally allowed inside, she was sitting up in bed, obviously relieved to see the two of them. She had no memories of what had happened after Gloria started her spell and the deputies at the door hadn’t been able to give her much information, so she hadn’t known what was going on. She beckoned Stiles to the bed so she could give him a hug. Derek stood awkwardly at the edge of the room, watching as Stiles hugged her back for what felt like a very, very long time. He couldn’t even imagine the bond that these two must have having shared a body and seen each other’s worst memories. Derek studied the floor next to the hospital bed and tried not to feel jealous that Aisling knew Stiles in a way he never could. 

Aisling asked Stiles for the whole story and so they summed up what had happened, with Stiles sitting next to her on the hospital bed and Derek standing a little distance away. Aisling stared at Stiles with more and more astonishment in her face as the story went on. 

“You projected yourself between multiple locations,” she asked, “while disconnected from your body by a magical barrier? And you were able to maintain a physical presence?” 

“It got a bit shaky at the end,” Stiles said. “If the barrier hadn’t come down when it did, I don’t know what would have happened.” 

Aisling was still looking astonished, “The amount of power that must have taken.” Something passed over her face, a realisation. “You were the one she sensed.” 

“What?” Stiles asked. 

“Gloria said she’d sensed my magic.” 

“She said it was like a beacon,” Derek added. 

“I think she felt it when you did the astral projection spell,” Aisling told Stiles. 

Stiles looked horrified, “You mean I’m the one who led them to us?” 

“That guy picked us up before you did the spell,” Derek reminded him. “They must have known where we were before then.” 

Aisling didn’t argue with that assertion and Stiles relaxed just a little. For a moment, Stiles had looked like he might have thrown up, but he calmed down as he accepted their answers. Still, Derek wanted to go over there and put a hand on his arm or something, to give him some physical reassurance, but he didn’t want to intrude on the moment Stiles was having with Aisling. 

“No,” Aisling agreed, “I must have been careless with my masking spells, but she said I was a lot stronger and I think she was wrong. I think she’d sensed your magic.” 

“But I’m not that good with magic,” said Stiles. 

“You’ve never been trained. I think, with practice, you could be incredible.” 

They were still talking about it when the door to the hospital room opened and the local sheriff came in. He closed the door firmly behind him, shutting the deputies outside to give them some privacy for this conversation. 

It was a much longer conversation, starting with the existence of the supernatural. Derek had to demonstrate his werewolf face as a reassurance that he hadn’t just imagined everything he’d seen earlier. When they’d done convincing him about the existence of magic, witches, and astral projection, they asked him what was happening with the survivors of the coven. 

“We’re going with a cult as an explanation,” the sheriff said. “The... um... the witches are pleading guilty to various charges of kidnap, assault, accessory to murder, but they’re all going to be claiming that they only did it because they feared for their lives because the cult leader was a brutal killer.” 

Between them, the coven had confessed to enough that the local sheriff’s department would be able to solve half a dozen murders and several missing person’s cases. Of course, without Gloria’s body, she would be listed as missing so the cases wouldn’t be officially closed, but it was still a major coup for the sheriff. The evidence the witches were giving would probably help when it came to plea bargains. Still, there would probably be jail time for most of them. Given the way they’d reacted to Gloria’s death, Derek wasn’t sure that was fair. If they had all been under her magical control, could they really be held accountable for the crimes they’d committed? 

“If they need help with lawyers,” Derek said, “let me know. I can help them pay for legal services.” 

“That’s extremely generous of you,” the sheriff said. Derek shrugged. 

“It shouldn’t be necessary. Gloria and her group built up considerable assets over the years. Those will go towards legal fees.” 

“What happens to us?” Stiles asked. 

“Well, with Gloria gone, the hospital shooting case has collapsed and I think my deputies have enough to handle without looking for a couple of guys when there’s no sign of a victim. I don’t think anyone will notice if that file falls down the back of a desk and disappears. You two are safe.” 

“And me?” Aisling asked. 

“I’ll need a statement from you about what happened in the woods. I doubt this will go to trial, so you shouldn’t need to do more than that, and Gloria had already made arrangements for your medical bills when you were brought here. It should be enough to cover you for some physiotherapy as well.” 

“So then that’s just... it?” 

“You’re legally an adult. Once the doctors decide that you’re safe to be discharged, what happens next is up to you.” 

Aisling seemed almost stricken by that news. 

***

They spent the night in a cheap motel near the hospital and it was Derek who woke up from nightmares. He woke from visions of fire and the scent of burning flesh, the ghost of his family’s screams in his ears. 

“It’s OK,” Stiles said. “It’s OK. You’re safe.” 

The bed shifted as weight settled on it. Stiles’ arms wrapped around Derek. They lay like that, the warmth and scent of safety wrapping Derek in comfort. Despite the nightmares, Derek was able to fall asleep again quite quickly. When he woke in the morning, he and Stiles were still tangled together, pressed against each other in the middle of the narrow bed. 

Derek lay there, staring at the lines of Stiles’ face, soft in the morning light, and knew he didn’t want this to stop. He could get used to waking up with Stiles beside him. When Stiles opened his eyes and saw him staring, he just smiled, like he could get used to it too. 

They had a slow breakfast and Stiles had a long phone call with his dad before they went back to visit Aisling at the hospital. She was just back from a session with the physio to build muscle tone after all her time in the coma. 

The three of them sat for a while, staring at each other in awkward silence. 

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Aisling said at last. “You’ve done everything I asked, more. Derek, I... Thank you for fighting for me.” 

Derek shrugged. “Stiles would have killed me if I’d let you die.” 

“Don’t listen to him,” Stiles told her. “Derek’s a big, self-sacrificing softie.” He said it with a softness in his tone that was unfamiliar. Derek looked more closely at Stiles and saw that he was relaxed in a way he hadn’t been for a long while, since before the nogitsune, probably even then. Derek thought back over the conversations they’d had since they’d left Beacon Hills together, over their imagined destruction of all the places that caused them pain. 

“There’s no hurry to go back,” Derek said. He didn’t know how long it would take Aisling to get discharged. Her body had been unused for so long that her muscles had wasted away. It would take time for her to get her strength back, but it surely wouldn’t be necessary for her to be in a hospital for all that time. But even if it took days or weeks, Derek had nowhere to go to. He didn’t know what Stiles’ situation was regarding college, whether he had somewhere he needed to be in a month or so, but for now they had time. 

He saw Stiles smile at his words. Derek remembered how Stiles’ dad had believed the excuse about needing to get away from Beacon Hills for a while. Maybe they should make the excuse a reality. 

Stiles met Derek’s gaze. Neither of them said anything, but Derek was pretty sure he knew what Stiles was thinking. Aisling was here all alone. She had no family left, no one to be with. If she’d had friends before her coma, there was no sign of them around now. She had no reason to stay here with all her bad memories, just as Derek had no reason to stay in Beacon Hills. 

“You could come with us,” Stiles said. “When we leave.” 

“Go to Beacon Hills with you?” Aisling asked. 

There was another silent exchange between Stiles and Derek. 

“Or somewhere else,” Stiles said. “I’ve never been to New York.” 

Aisling smiled and looked like she might burst into tears at the same time. 

“Could I?” she asked. 

***

They’d been shopping, buying changes of clothes for all of them, but especially for Aisling since she didn’t have any belongings to her name. They didn't have much else, but they could travel light with what they had now. Everything they needed was piled in the back of the jeep. Aisling sat beside the bags, staring out the window as Stiles put the jeep into gear and pulled away from the hospital parking lot. There was an expression of deep relief on her face as Stiles put the jeep onto the road out of town. 

“So,” Stiles said, “New York next?” 

“There’s no rush,” Derek said. “We can take the scenic route.”


End file.
